Snide & Prejudiced
by AngryBadgerGirl
Summary: Snide & Prejudiced: A Story of Absolutely No Consequence or Merit. This is a crossover with lots of banter between Edward and Bella. All human, canon pairings, rated M for lemons in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Snide & Prejudiced: A Story of Absolutely No Consequence or Merit**

**A/N: This is a short crossover between Twilight and Pride & Prejudice (I think the name gives that away.) It will be around ten chapters and I will most likely be done within a month. This will be and will always remain purely fanfic; I have no plans to develop it into anything else. I'm writing it as an exercise in banter primarily. If the plot seems remarkably similar to Pride & Prejudice, that's because it is. This isn't something I'm heavily invested in; its purpose is to help me practice. So feel free to read, to steal, to line a bird cage with it and/or wrap fish with it.**

**Chapter One**

**I do not own Twilight, I'm just trying to improve my crappy "dialouge."**

_Once upon a time, in a little hamlet known as Forks, lived a very disenchanted young lady named Isabella Swan. This is her not-so-fairy-tale story…_

"RISE AND SHINE, MY LOVELY," bellowed my mother, opening the drapes behind the picture windows of my large bedroom.

"Muh-thur!" I whined as I blinked at the clock at my bedside. "It's only 6am and it's a Saturday," I informed her. I felt as grumpy as a wombat with a bug up its ass.

"No matter, my dearest, no matter," she beamed. I absolutely despised my mother's warm and fuzzy disposition. I swear sometimes I could see the sunshine glaring into my eyeballs right from her ass.

"What are you so chipper about?" I asked.

"Oh, no reason," my mother answered, so very obviously lying. She snorted and chuckled when she lied. God, it was so transparent. An elephant farting in an elevator was less conspicuous.

"What is the reason, mother?" I asked, insistent that she get on with it and spit out whatever trivial thing was causing her ADHD flare-up this time.

"Oh nothing, really," she said, trying to sound coy. My mother couldn't make a coy expression anymore. A botched injection of Botox at a quack Seattle doctor's office last year put an end to that. She now had what I called "Perma-Surprise!!!" on her face.

"It's just that I heard the most _fantastic_ bit of news from Mrs. Stanley up the street!" she grated as she laid out my clothes for the day.

Yes, my mother still dressed me, but only on weekends or special occasions. She did not dress me for school or anything else. Honestly, I didn't even give a flying fart. Clothes kept me from being naked. I wasn't a slob. I liked to look pretty, feminine. But colors and styles or whatever stupid fads were popular held no interest to me whatsoever. I liked pretty flowy blouses and long skirts. I liked putting my hair up, away from my face so that when I was preoccupied with reading or whatever, it didn't get in my way.

"Well, don't you want to know what the news is?" my mother prodded, willing me to show even a modicum of interest in whatever the hell she was carrying on about.

"Sure," I replied, nodding my head with complete insincerity.

"We've got new neighbors!" my mother squealed. "And they're fabulously posh and well-to-do, can you believe it? Here in Forks of all places!" she squawked, rather like a chicken with a terribly bad crack habit.

"Oh, isn't that nice?" I replied. I literally had a rote dialogue memorized in my head of scripted conversation for my mother. This way, I could only half-consciously talk with her, almost on autopilot so that my real thinking could be devoted to things that were actually worthwhile.

"Nice? It's spectacular, Bella dear. They have a son! A perfectly eligible son! I do believe he'd be very well suited for your sister," she exclaimed, the machinations and chicanery already turning full kilter in that tiny little brain of hers.

"Right, sounds really good," I replied without much thought. I was getting dressed and frankly, making sure my clothes were on right demanded more attention right now.

The truth was that I refused to put much thought into most of the things that preoccupied my mother. She and I were as different as two people could be. While I saw myself as level-headed, practical, and stubborn but logical, my mother was exactly 180 degrees from all of those traits. She was flighty, utterly distractible, impractical, and so easily swayed on just about anything you could think of.

The subject came up again at the breakfast table. I sat by and watched my mother get carried away on her fluffy little cloud of utter nonsense while I heavily buttered my toast.

"Isabella Swan," my mother snapped. "Too much butter!" she chided with a 'tut-tut.' "Do you want to put on weight? How would you ever find a man?"

Usually I'd never let my mother get away with such comments but my father shot me a quick glance that said "leave it be," and so I did. I had more respect in my pinky nail for my father than I did in my entire body for my mother. My father, known to most as simply Charlie, was an honest, hard working man with principles. I admired and respected him; in fact, I made every effort to emulate him as best I could.

So I heeded my father's plaintive glances and instead just ate my completely over buttered and high in saturated fat toast with an inane smile like a good little moppet. I refused to let my mother spoil my mood anyhow. Today was going to be a wonderful day filled with…nothing to do but think about how much I hated being bored to tears of small town, provincial life.

There were only a few days left of school before summer vacation—two glorious months of more of this. I so badly wanted to get a job—somewhere, anywhere. I would've jumped at the chance to even work at the small Forks Public Library but my mother put her foot down. For once, she decided she'd be stubborn and principled about something but it was entirely backward and moronic. She insisted we'd look "poor and desperate" if I got a job. She couldn't fathom that I'd want to get a job just to feel productive.

Much to my relief, once again my father came to my rescue in the form of a happy compromise. He offered to let me take my truck to Port Angeles or Seattle a couple of days a week to explore and just see where my feet would take me. I jumped at this golden opportunity to escape the sheer boredom that awaited me this summer.

"So, Rosalie, dearest, I was thinking perhaps we'd go and visit with our new neighbors this afternoon. You know, get acquainted?" my mother suggested with a charming snort.

"Sure, mother," my beautiful older sister replied with a genuine smile.

Rosalie was one year older than me. I adored her, but in the same vein I sort of hated her. Mildly. You see, my sister was a dream of a human being, and that was a description completely devoid of any sort of exaggeration. Simply put, she had all the outstanding qualities a person could want. She was beautiful, with lush blonde hair and sea blue eyes that sparkled when she laughed, but she was not haughty about her looks—not in the least. In fact, Rosalie was downright modest. She was also intelligent, with a quick wit, but not prone to be sarcastic or dark the way I tended to be. It was in her nature to be thoughtful and caring, to be non-judgmental and sweet.

My father doted on Rosalie and honestly, who could blame him? I would too if she were my daughter. Loving her came so naturally to the people closest to her. Of course my father's pride and admiration would know no bounds. I didn't hold a grudge. Much.

"Ooh, I want to go meet the neighbors too!" chirped my younger sister Alice. If my mother was a clucking chicken, then surely Alice was her little chirping chick, following quickly behind her, just as squawky and just as frenetic.

Behold, the prodigal daughter. My junior by one year, Mary Alice or just "Alice" was my mother's little pet indeed. She was just as flighty, just as superficial, and just as preoccupied with appearances and looks.

Where Rosalie was statuesque and shapely, Alice was petite and rather built like an eleven year old boy. She had mischievous dark blue eyes that always gave away her thoughts—not that Alice ever had a complex thought in her life. Her hair was a beautiful black color that contrasted perfectly with her porcelain, yet adorably freckled skin. So even though Alice's personality had the depth and dimension of a piece of cardboard, at least she had looks and a buoyancy to her that most men would instantly gravitate to, regardless of how banal she was.

And then there was me.

I was the epitome, no, the very _definition_ of the words "plain Jane." My hair was a muddy brown with no tone to it at all. It fell in natural waves that in this damp weather would frizz horribly, so I just put it up. I had very ordinary brown eyes that lacked the spark I saw in the eyes of both my sisters. I wasn't tall like Rosalie or a cute little scamp, like Alice. I was average height, average weight and average looking.

I'd long accepted my lot in life as someone who was non-descript and generic on the outside because I'd promised myself that I would be anything but those things on the inside. I, Isabella Swan, would be different. I wouldn't just be smart. The world was full of smart people. I would have a mind of my own. I would defy most people's stereotypes about women—I wanted to be independent, logical, practical and level-headed. I set out to be a woman with a man's mind.

And why couldn't I be?

In this day and age, a woman should be able to do whatever she pleased. I had plans for college and they didn't involve the UW. I wanted out of this insanely muggy, wet, soppy state. I had designs on applying to schools all over California where the weather was pleasantly dry and warm.

My mother hated the idea of me going further than Seattle for college. She wanted to keep me close so she could meddle in my life as much as possible. Well, maybe Rosalie had a sweet enough disposition to tolerate that kind of idiocy, but I didn't. My older sister was graduating high school next year and planned on going to the UW that fall. She'd be home every weekend, would let my mother set her up on endless blind dates and would no doubt be engaged within a couple of years at the most.

I vowed never to get married. I would carve that into granite if I had the chance.

Simply put, I considered love to be a lie, plain and simple. It was a carefully designed deceit created by Mother Nature to keep us reproducing. Simple biology bore this out. I looked at it from a pragmatic standpoint. Why should we feel an emotion that defied reason and good sense? There had to be some purpose for it, surely.

My mother interrupted my daydreaming once again.

"Isabella!" she shrieked. "Hurry up and finish eating, you're keeping the rest of us waiting," she scolded with pursed lips.

Renee Higginbotham Swan adhered to very strict rules about etiquette, especially where it pertained to table manners. We all had to sit, eat, and leave the table at precisely the same time or her day was completely ruined. I was holding her up, apparently. No doubt she had more important things to do like crochet a toilet seat cozy or whatever domestic pursuit she challenged herself with these days.

"I'm done, mother, sorry. I was just thinking," I explained with a sigh.

"That's my girl," my father replied with a warm smile. "Think terribly cerebral thoughts with that amazing brain of yours," he added.

If I didn't know better, I could swear that my father fancied me to be the son he never had. He must have noticed early on that I was nothing like my sisters—I was far more serious, with a very natural curiosity for learning for the sake of gaining knowledge. Where my father saw Rosalie as the ideal daughter, I think I was the ideal son, just dressed remarkably like a girl.

After breakfast, I retreated to my bedroom. I longed for the peace and quiet that I craved so badly since waking up. School was winding down rapidly and I only had a couple of finals left to take that I was already quite prepared for. I spent an hour or so reviewing my materials nonetheless, just to be sure. Soon I found myself poring over books from the massive shelves that covered every wall simply for the sake of reading. If I had to endure living in this small boring town, at least my mind could be free to escape, to wander about the world, to learn everything there is to know on any given subject.

Just as I was happily passing the hours, Rosalie walked into my bedroom. I knew my sister well and I could anticipate what she wanted to talk about. She wanted me to come with her and Mother and Alice to visit with the new neighbors. I couldn't be less interested if I tried.

"Hi, Bella," Rosalie greeted with a serene smile as she sat next to me on my big four poster bed.

"I'm not going, Rosalie," I replied. I felt it best to skip the formalities and cut straight to the chase. No use bandying about the subject at hand.

"I didn't even ask you to," she protested. My sister was under the impression that I was as imperceptive as my mother and Alice.

"No, but you were about to," I countered, knowing full well her what her intentions were.

"Alright," she conceded with a smile, "but will you at least listen to why I'd like for you to come?" she asked.

"Go on then, explain." I respected my sister enough to hear her out. Rosalie was intelligent and nothing like my mother. She had no ulterior motives in any given situation, and I had no reason to believe she had any now.

"If you're there, I'd at least have someone on my side. I know how mother and Alice are going to behave and it's going to be embarrassing. If you're there we can make sure our new acquaintances will see that at least part of the Swan family has intelligence and poise."

She knew how to be persuasive. She was flattering me, and frankly, I loved her for it. Few people gave compliments as earnestly as Rosalie and for a second when she referred to me as "poised" I almost believed her. But in truth there was nothing poised about me. I could trip over any flat surface and constantly broke things by accident.

"Rosalie, I am _not_ poised. I'm the clumsiest person in existence," I shrugged. It didn't bother me to have this fault. I knew what I was. When you'd exposed yourself to the kind of physical buffoonery that I had, you grew accustomed to it, really.

"Maybe not physically," she argued. "But with words, when you speak, oh Bella, you're a ballerina. Your words are graceful and elegant," she added.

Oh yes, my sister knew exactly what to say. She was, indeed, no fool. And while I didn't particularly care what the new neighbors thought of our family, I did care about Rosalie's feelings. If this was something that was important to her, then surely I owed her the decency to stand beside her and help her when she needed me.

"So, why do you care what they think of us?" I asked as my curiosity piqued.

"Well, if their son is a nice fellow, the least we can do is become friends with him, don't you think? I mean, what harm could come of that?" she reasoned. I hated it when my sister was so logical, yet kind and warm. It was such a dangerous combination. Nothing good could ever come of such a rare combination.

"Alright then, when you put it that way, I suppose I can tag along," I replied. I was clearly out-gunned in this scenario. Rosalie had me dead to rights and she knew it.

"Thanks, Bella, I knew you'd be reasonable. You always are!" she exclaimed, giving me a quick peck on the cheek and a tight hug.

"OK, OK, no need to be all fawning and obsequious, I already said yes," I complained, even though I was laughing and hugging her back. She knew I was teasing her.

"I wonder if they'll be nice people," she mused out loud.

"I wonder if they'll offer us cake," I mused back. I was serious. I happened to be dying for a nice, fat slice of chocolate cake. It was my undoing. "Listen, if we meet this wonderful son of theirs, you must remember to keep a level head. Don't believe like Mother or Alice. Be nice but a little aloof," I advised.

Now I knew nothing about boys. Why I felt the need to give my sister any sort of dating strategy was beyond me. It was just my knee-jerk instinct to tell her to protect herself. I feared my sister's warmth would be misinterpreted as flirting. What if this guy was a numbskull? What if he rebuked her, insulted her? I didn't want my sister getting hurt.

"I think I can handle myself quite nicely, Bella," she replied with a knowing glance.

"Just make him earn your affections, dear sister," I said with a fake nasally voice that cracked us both up completely.

The quarter mile walk up the road should've been relatively quick and painless, but of course with my mother involved, it was neither of those things. I listened to her endless litany of commands and tried my very hardest to hold my tongue but I was clearly being tested beyond my endurance. After she told me for the tenth time to stand up straight, I'd reached my boiling point.

"Mother, I heard you the first nine times! I'm walking down a quiet country road; this isn't a catwalk at a Paris fashion show. If I wanted to walk the way you demanded, I would," I snapped.

"Listen to yourself Isabella. What man would put up with you? Honestly, I have no idea where you get your terrible temper," she chided with her nose in the air.

"Clearly I was adopted," I shot back, not caring how it made her feel. Frankly, sometimes I really wished it was the case. It would explain so much. I was so entirely different from the rest of the women in my family. The only person who was remotely similar to me was my older sister Rosalie, but our intelligence was the only thing we had in common. Her looks were nothing like mine. My sister had a rare ethereal beauty that most women would envy tremendously. I was rather plain, to say the least.

"Will you two please stop bickering?" Rosalie asked sincerely. She hated any sort of discord and she took it upon herself regularly to act as mediator between my mother and me. It was only out of deference to my sister that I let the matter drop and just kept walking.

Upon hearing my mother's rather loud knock, our neighbor opened the door to her new home. She looked to me to be the lady of house. She was a pleasant enough looking woman, with wavy brown hair and happy light green eyes. She greeted us with a smile and that was all the incentive my mother needed to begin her rapid fire barrage at this poor soul.

"Why hello, I'm Mrs. Charles Swan. I live just up this lovely little road of ours. These are my daughters. Girls, where are your manners? Greet our new neighbor properly. Good gracious, I do apologize," she blathered on, simply railroading the innocent women standing in front of us. She hadn't spoken a single word yet. We hadn't even heard her name yet and already my mother was apologizing in advance.

"Forgive me," Rosalie broke in, finally getting my mother to slow down her motor mouth. "I'm Rosalie and these are my younger sisters, Isabella and Alice," she continued, pointing and me and Alice, respectively.

"Hello, so lovely to meet you all," the kindly woman replied. "I'm Evelyn McCarty, won't you come in? I've got some iced tea in the fridge," she added, being very cordial indeed.

"That would be wonderful," my mother beamed.

She glommed on to _any_ opportunity to schmooze like a leech on a fat man's behind. If there was an elbow to rub, then surely it called out to my mother like a siren song. She never met a hobnobber she didn't like, quite frankly. I let out a long deep breath because I knew this particular visit was going to be sheer torture and an exercise in the art of mortification. Yes, to me being mortified was an art form. It happened to me so damned often, either with me tripping or breaking something, or as a result of my mother's utter tomfoolery that I'd become something of an embarrassment connoisseur.

We shuffled inside the beautiful McCarty home. It was a grand mission-style abode, complete with artwork gracing the walls and all manner of expensive, well-appointed décor. To say that it was obvious that the McCartys came from money was like saying it was obvious the Pope was Catholic.

Soon we were all sitting in their beautiful parlor enjoying some nice cold iced tea. Mrs. McCarty was a pleasant enough woman—very cordial, well-mannered and attractive for a woman her age. I had the good manners to smile and nod while she was talking even though I wasn't listening to a word she said. She and my mother prattled on about whatever interested middle aged women.

"So, Evelyn, do you have any children?" my mother asked, batting her eyelashes and smirking.

"Why yes, I have a son named Emmett. He'll be a senior in high school this year," Mrs. McCarty replies.

"Oh, my Rosalie will be a senior too!" my mother shrieked as if this coincidence was akin to winning the lottery. I could feel my skin blush lightly as Mrs. McCarty looked at her incredulously for the shortest split second before regaining her well-mannered composure.

"Mrs. McCarty," Rosalie cut in. "What made your family decide to move to our little town?" she asked with a small smile, her hands clasped in her lap.

Mrs. McCarty smiled back before replying. "My husband, Benjamin, is an orthopedic surgeon. We've moved here from Seattle so that he could join the staff of the new hospital. He's to be Chief of his department. Two other families moved here as well, and they're good friends of ours—the Whitlocks and the Cullens. Dr. Whitlock is a psychiatrist and Dr. Cullen is an emergency room physician," she explains.

As it turned out, all three doctors moved here to accept chief positions at the new Forks Hospital. I wondered if this meant our small town would somehow rise above "sticks" status but I seriously doubted it. A new hospital was a step in the right direction but I failed to see how it would cause people to flock here. Forks was still a small town surrounded by woods and hills in every direction. Even the homes were spaced a generous amount apart. It would take some time before this little village of ours turned into something more than a pit stop between Seattle and Vancouver.

"Oh, here's Emmett now," Mrs. McCarty said, the pride in her voice clear. She smiled from ear to ear as we watched a rather large and ostentatious SUV pull into their gigantic circular cobblestone driveway.

We couldn't get too good of a look at him because of the shrubbery outside the windows, but that didn't stop Mother and Alice from ogling this Emmett person like he was a Christmas ham and they hadn't eaten all week. I didn't care how handsome a guy was, there was no call for staring and making a fool of yourself. Of course there were guys that I found attractive but it was bad enough that my blush would give me away. I didn't need to embarrass myself any further than that.

Soon Emmett came through the front door. He smiled politely when he heard his mother call him over and announce that they had company.

"Hello ladies," he said, bowing his head slightly as he entered the room.

Emmett certainly was a good enough looking guy. He was built like a rugby player—stout, but muscular. He had short wavy black hair and light eyes that were almost a sea green color.

And then I noticed the unfortunate look on my older sister's face. I cringed inwardly. I'd never seen my sister look at anyone like that before. She appeared to be positively stricken stupid, like someone just hit her over the head with a very heavy, blunt object. I almost expected her to open her mouth and hear the sound 'dur' come out, but thankfully, it didn't.

He went around the room, cordially shaking hands and saying "Emmett McCarty, pleasure to meet you." He approached Rosalie last, shaking her hand entirely too long and too slowly, but she didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

"Emmett," my mother began with a gleeful smile on her face, "won't you have a seat next to my dear Rosalie? You'll both be starting your senior year in the fall," she reminded us all, as if this was still some kind of miraculous event worthy of a parade or a fireworks display.

"I'd love to sit, may I?" he asked Rosalie. She just nodded her head and parted her lips slightly.

I felt sorry for my sister all of a sudden. What a shame to lose brain cells just because you had the unfortunate luck of looking at someone. I would hate for someone to turn me stupid. In fact, I think I would find it downright disturbing and irritating. Who did men think they were, anyway? First they stole your intellect, then your opinions, then your independence. Oh no, not to me they wouldn't.

I would sooner chew broken glass, if I could be so blunt.


	2. Chapter 2

**When we last left off, Bella, her sisters and her mother were at the McCarty home, meeting Emmett and his mother for the first time.**

**Chapter Two**

**I do not own Twilight, I'm just trying to improve my crappy "dialouge."**

After sitting for what seemed like an interminably long time in the McCarty family's parlor, my ears perked up when my mother mentioned something that I thought would embarrass the hell out of Rosalie.

"It looks like these two are getting on quite nicely, wouldn't you say, Evelyn?" my mother said to Mrs. McCarty with a snicker. Alice chortled right along with her, never taking her eyes off Rosalie and Emmett.

My poor older sister immediately looked down at her hands, which were neatly folded on her lap. Whatever conversation she was engrossed in with the handsome guy next to her came to a sudden halt thanks to my mother's meddling.

"Well, I'm sure they have much in common," Mrs. McCarty offered with a warm smile, trying to diffuse the awkwardness that descended upon us.

My mother had a gift for creating uncomfortable situations. Where most grown adults had the wherewithal to at least devote a few seconds of their time to deliberate over what they were about to say before saying it, my mother had no such prudence. She simply lacked that critical filter between her brain and her mouth.

"Rosalie," my mother began, her voice heady with excitement. "Why don't you accompany Emmett to Port Angeles—there's a wonderful movie theatre there, and shops and restaurants," she urged boldly. I could not fathom a more humiliating moment than your _mother_ telling you to ask someone on a date. Clearly, this woman's scheming knew no bounds. Someone had to put a stop to this insanity—this runaway train of faux pas and embarrassment. This for sure was going to leave a scar on my psyche; I couldn't imagine what it was doing to poor Rosalie.

I decided to throw myself on the grenade, consequences be damned.

"Actually, mother," I chimed in, "Port Angeles isn't that much bigger than Forks. I'm sure compared to Seattle it would look pretty boring," I offered, giving my sister ample opportunity for behaving as if my mother's suggestion was a poor one.

"Oh, but I'd love to see a movie," Emmett piped up as soon as my words left my mouth. There was little doubt that he was enthusiastic about the idea of going somewhere with my sister. Either that or he was a really devoted movie buff. Somehow I didn't think it was the latter. "That is, if you'd like to," he qualified, looking at Rosalie like he was lost puppy.

Oh, it was all over now. My sister was officially a lost cause.

"Um, I would actually," Rosalie said sheepishly, looking at Emmett as though she had to secretly sneak little glances at him.

"Wonderful," my mother announced, her face glowing. The phrase 'shit eating grin' didn't even begin to describe the smug, self-satisfied expression she bore at that moment. She went positively gaga when one of her foolish plans came to fruition.

I had to keep from projectile vomiting. Between my sister instantly becoming a victim of some sort of head trauma and my mother's embarrassing scheming, this situation had become positively puke-worthy.

But then it got worse, just when I thought that it couldn't possibly.

"Isabella, why don't join them?" my mother suggested.

It was at the very second that I prayed to every deity in existence to simply open the ground up so that I may be swallowed whole and pushed down to the center of the Earth where I could be fried to a crisp by molten magma. Alas, it didn't happen. Short of death by crisping, my only other desire was to get out of this nightmare by talking my way out.

"Surely they wouldn't want me tagging along," I argued lightly. My thoroughly artificial smile belied the laser beam-like death stare I was giving Rosalie. My eyes were pleading with her to agree with me. I knew it was no use for two reasons. First, my sister was now completely rendered incompetent by Mr. Charmsalot. Second, she was too polite and modest to make it clear to an entire room full of people that she wanted to be alone with a guy she'd only just met.

Curse you, Rosalie. Curse you, your beauty, and your lovable sweetness. The world didn't need people like you ruining things for people like me.

"Nonsense. I can't imagine why they'd object," my mother replied, making my head fall forward in utter defeat. What could be worse than being forced to act as chaperone and third wheel to my older sister? Surely nothing.

"I think it's a great idea," Emmett chimed in with a gleaming white smile and dimpled cheeks. My brain was screaming for Mr. Dimples to kindly shut up. "In fact," he continued, "I'll invite my best friend to come with us."

I silently prayed that this best friend was female.

"I'm sure he'd love to join us."

Perfect.

"But, no, that's not, I don't think…" I babbled, desperately scrambling to grab hold of any excuse I could come up with to escape this calamity.

"Isabella," my mother gasped. "Where are your manners? You will accompany your sister. That's the end of it!" she snapped. For her to be so insistent in front of all these people was absolutely humiliating. This woman's inane fixation on pairing us up with any available male incensed me to the very core of my being.

"Fine," I relented in a stern voice, my mouth an angry straight line across my face. If my mother could forget her manners, so could I. "But I'm driving my truck. We'll meet you there. I'm sure Rosalie would be happy to give you her cell number, Emmett," I added.

"Don't be ridiculous, Isabella, you can all ride togeth—" my mother attempted to argue, but I cut her off.

"I am driving my truck, mother. Or I stay home," I said through clenched teeth. It wasn't as if I was making a scene—my mother already set the stage. I was merely trying to salvage what little I had of my dignity.

"Oh mother, I'll go if Bella wants to stay home," offered Alice. She looked as if she might burst at the opportunity to be set up with a boy. If only she could go in my place. I knew my mother would never allow it. Alice was too young and too stupid to be dating; even my mother could see that. Besides, she had this antiquated notion that we should all be paired up in sequence, and since I was older, that meant I had the unsavory privilege of having to go on dates before Alice could.

By this juncture, the mood in the room was so horribly uncomfortable, I could practically taste it. Rosalie was clearly mortified; she had her eyes cast down and a weak smile on her face. She looked as if she could burst into tears at any moment. Emmett studied her expression, no doubt feeling as if maybe she was being forced into this and not genuinely interested in spending time with him. The look on both their faces, despite how idiotic I found this whole debacle, actually made me feel…bad. And it took a lot to elicit that kind of response from me. But I loved my sister.

"No, Alice," I said, shaking my head. "I don't let anyone drive my truck; you know that—not even Rosalie. I'd love to see a movie. We haven't gone to Port Angeles in some time. I think we'll have fun," I said with a broad smile. I looked at Rosalie as I spoke, hoping to lift her spirits. It worked. Rosalie's face perked up again and her eyes regained their usual playful spark that, frankly, I adored seeing.

Alice began mewling in protest and I immediately shot her a glare that even she could interpret to mean that she needed to stop whining or I would make her stop. She looked at me briefly, shifted uncomfortably in her chair and then ceased her moaning.

I wouldn't consider myself a cruel older sister. I didn't tease her or abuse her or anything of the sort. I simply was forced into the position of constantly putting her in her rightful place because my mother indulged her ridiculously. If Alice were to have any chance, any hope, of rising above being a bubble-headed nitwit who was utterly devoid of any character, I had to diligently counteract my mother's diabolical influence on her.

"Should we meet up in front of the theatre at 7 tonight, then?" Emmett asked Rosalie with that same megawatt smile. Of course all she could do was nod her head again and look as if her IQ had dropped precipitously through the floor. I turned my head away so I could roll my eyes as far up as they would go.

Mr. Dimples stood up and asked to be excused so that he may finish unpacking and tidying up his room. He gave us all a quick smile and nod before making his departure, and I noticed him turn and look at Rosalie at least half a dozen times before he actually left our presence. My sister, now undoubtedly suffering from some bizarre and tragic neurological condition, simply let out a soft little sigh.

No longer able to bear much more, I stood up and reminded my mother that we had errands to run. In truth we had no such plans but I desperately needed to get out of that parlor before I throttled someone. My mother was about to open her mouth to disagree with me when, by the grace of God, Rosalie's brain suddenly rebooted itself and she got up as well.

"We've taken enough of your time, Mrs. McCarty," Rosalie confessed timidly. "Bella is right, we do have a busy afternoon today," she added.

My mother and Alice had no choice at that point but to follow suit. My mother attempted to give me a look of disdain but she was incapable of scowling. It didn't matter a whit to me, frankly. I was perfectly happy to earn her strong disapproval. It meant I must have been doing something right. How I wished she could get it through her thick skull that her incessant meddling and embarrassing behavior had altogether destroyed any kind of relationship we could've had.

Where Rosalie was an optimist and a strong believer in the innate goodness in others, she was able to view my mother's actions as those which were ultimately motivated by love. I didn't think this way at all. I was a pessimist and I had no such faith in my fellow humans. Quite simply put, my mother was selfish. She saw her daughters as a means to elevating her social status. Part of it may have had to do with what she thought was best for us, but I had no desire to rely on a man to improve my life in any way.

Away we trudged the quarter mile back to our own home. Rosalie had a far-off, dreamy look on her face which concerned me greatly. I hoped this Emmett person was as polite and nice as he seemed. If he behaved in a manner this evening that contradicted that in any way, I had no reservations about kneeing him in the groin. I'd gone with Rosalie to enough parties and dances to know how to handle myself in precarious situations. Nothing diffuses unwanted advances from a drunken moron quite like a patella to his scrotum.

Alice and my mother prattled on with each other and I was glad for it because it meant that I could be alone with my thoughts as I walked down the country road. I would never admit it to anyone, not even Rosalie, but I was feeling more than dread about the upcoming 'date' I had this evening. In reality, I was feeling rather nervous. The truth of the matter was that I'd never actually been on a date before, even if it was only a double date to keep my sister company. What if he was nice? Would I have to be nice back? The thought made me physically shudder as I ambled up the dirt path. Even worse—what if Rosalie wanted to see more of Emmett and I had to endure another, possibly many other, outings like this one? I shook my head in disgust.

We arrived home and so began the insanity that was preparation for our night in Port Angeles. I refused to let my mother pick my clothes. If it were up to her, I'd be dressed like an exotic dancer—one who worked the dayshift and got tips in the form of free beer. Whoever this friend of Emmett's was, he would either like me for who I was or not like me at all. I was already hoping he'd be unlikable. It would make things much easier as it gave me ample discretion to ignore him completely.

I was in my room, reading a book and ready to go when my mother bounded in.

"Stop!" I shouted as she came at me with a pair of tweezers. "You are not coming anywhere near my eyebrows," I told her firmly.

"Why not? I just want to pretty them up a bit, that's all," she protested, frowning at me.

"They don't need 'prettying up' and even if they did, my skin will be bright red for days if you use that nasty torture device on me," I replied, trying to reason with her. For once logic won the day and she put the tweezers in her pocket. Instead, she sat next to me on my bed.

"Now Bella, you are going to try and make a good impression on Emmett and his friend, aren't you?" she asked. Her tone tried to mask the obvious exasperation in her voice. She knew very well that I had no intention of ingratiating myself on these boys, no matter how much I liked their company. I simply wasn't that kind of person.

"I'm going to be the way I always am, mother. I can't control what kind of impression that makes," I declared. I was fully aware that this wasn't the response she was hoping for but I strongly doubted that she was surprised.

I slid off the bed, looking for an escape for this rather distasteful conversation. I ventured into Rosalie's bedroom to see if there was any chance that she might be ready. Just as I suspected, she wasn't even dressed yet. Alice was rummaging around the closet, flinging different articles of clothing everywhere and making the room look like a tornado had blown through it.

"Rose, we need to leave in fifteen minutes," I informed her.

I didn't really care if we were late or not, I just wanted to get this evening over with. I also wasn't exactly fond of the agonizing process by which my sisters and most other women chose what to wear. Did it really matter, when all was said and done, whether you wore your pretty purple top or your pretty red one? These weren't exactly life or death decisions. Surely there were other things more worthy of such intense deliberation. I chose to wear a light blue peasant top and a low skirt with a delicate floral pattern. It was one of my favorite outfits.

"I know, Bella, but I'm trying to find just the right outfit," she replied, looking genuinely perplexed by this seemingly life or death conundrum.

"Here," I said, grabbing something from Alice's hands. "Wear this red one. It makes your skin look beautiful." Rosalie could wear a potato sack and her skin would still look beautiful, so technically I wasn't just buttering her up so we could leave.

"Well, I do like that one. Do you really think so?" she asked me.

"Yes, I _really_ think so. Now can you please get dressed so we can leave?" I pleaded.

"OK, but let Alice put a little but of makeup on you," she urged, tossing a tube of lipstick at my younger sister.

"Yes!" Alice puffed triumphantly. Nothing got Alice more excited than treating me like her cosmetic guinea pig.

"Alice, if you go overboard, even the tiniest bit, I will make your life a misery," I threatened. "Lipstick and mascara—that's it." I insisted.

After we were fussed and fretted over by my mother and Alice, Rosalie and I were finally able to leave. We climbed into my truck and made the trip in blessed silence. My head was throbbing, partly because of all the noise and commotion leading up to our departure, and partly because I was inexplicably nervous. Whoever this friend of Emmett's was, I began to feel a distinct dislike for him already.

I parked the car in the first spot I could find since it was a Saturday night and no doubt the downtown area was going to be crowded. Rosalie and I had to be hasty as we were already fifteen minutes late. We walked at a rather fast clip, which for me was always a dangerous endeavor due to my inevitable clumsiness. My best bet was to look down as I walked. Keeping both eyes on my feet was my only recourse to avoid injury.

"Rosalie, I told you we were going to be late!" I puffed as I sped my way down the street. She didn't answer. "Rosalie?" I called, but still got no answer.

Just as I lifted my gaze away from my feet and turned my head to look for my sister, I collided full force into something. Whatever it was, a very solid piece of it hit me square in the side of the head. The force of the collision sent me reeling as my feet inevitably tangled together and I swayed off-balance. I prepared my backside for its doomed abrupt contact with the pavement, but no such contact ever happened. I was desperate to figure out why that was but I couldn't.

In short, I was frozen in place.

I opened my eyes when I realized that bracing for sudden impact was unnecessary. Looming inches from my face was…lips and eyes and stubble. Full, red lips—especially the bottom one. The eyes, they were _so_ green, like the color of the grass in Forks after days and days of April rain. They were framed with fantastically long eyelashes and thick, serious eyebrows. The stubble looked to be a couple of days old. I surmised by its presence that this particular face must belong to a male.

The lips were moving and sound was coming out of them but whether or not they formed actual words eluded me completely for some peculiar reason.

I saw hair. It was unkempt and thick, the color of shiny bronze with hints of gold and dappled brown. I wanted to touch it with my hand because it didn't seem real. I'd never seen hair so perfectly tousled before. Its disarray must have been deliberate because it looked as if that was exactly the way it should be.

The lips were moving and making sound again. This time I concentrated on comprehending the sound and willed my brain to make sense of it.

"Isabella Swan, I presume?" the pouty lips asked.

"Wait…what?" was all I could muster. There was some sort of odd disconnect between my brain and my mouth. My eyes also mutinied on me, willing themselves to roam where they may and inspect every inch of the face that was practically touching mine.

Then I realized that the reason my backside never bounced against the concrete was because the arms attached to the face's body was keeping me suspended from the ground. How odd it was to be held like this by a complete stranger when it felt as if the arms were molded perfectly to fit my small frame around them.

"You're Isabella, correct?" the lips repeated.

"Um. Yeah," I answered, feeling especially vulnerable. I didn't like feeling that way. It made me incredibly uncomfortable. I noticed that the eyebrows were beginning to furrow in what looked to be mild irritation and that was all the incentive required for me to snap out of whatever stupor I found myself in.

I cleared my throat and pried myself away from the arms that were holding me. While it felt completely natural to be in these arms, I was taken aback by the feeling of familiarity I had with this complete stranger. I stood up on my feet with the aid of those arms. They were ever so strong and…_nice?_

"I'm terribly sorry," I said, realizing that what my head had collided with was actually this gentleman's jaw.

Surely something was amiss with my mental faculties due to the fact that I just hit my head. I brushed off these absurd notions and went on about the business of straightening myself and standing upright. I brushed the imaginary dust from my skirt.

"Are you alright?" the face asked me. It appeared to be glaring at me, which I found most disconcerting due mainly because I hadn't done anything to warrant such a fierce expression except bump into this person, and it was quite by accident.

"Yes, I think so," I managed to utter, genuinely unsure whether I was alright or not. The truth of the matter was that I was somewhat stunned. I remembered walking very briskly down the street with my sister, and then smacking into something that was actually a human male. Anything that happened after that was a bit of a blur. How completely confounding, really.

Those intense green eyes never left my face. It was beginning to make me feel as if they were trying to bore holes into my flesh. I wished they'd stop and look anywhere else. Perhaps if I talked to the face, the eyes would shift their maddening gaze elsewhere.

"Again, I'm very sorry, I should've looked where I was going," I offered, trying to at last shake off the last of whatever haze I was in. Thankfully, I was beginning to feel like myself again.

"Not to worry, as long as you're not injured," he replied, looking as if he was inspecting me for cuts or scrapes. The peculiar thing was he was still only looking at my face—and still glaring at me.

It occurred to me that I was at one point walking down the street with my sister Rosalie and I should probably take it upon myself to discern where she was at this particular point in time. I turned my head and found her standing some distance behind me, completely enthralled in conversation with Emmett. This explained why she never answered when I called out to her a few moments ago.

I turned back to the face with the green eyes and the lips and the stubble.

"Are you Emmett's friend?" I asked, my powers of deduction as sharp as ever.

"Yes, unfortunately," the face says with a mild laugh. "I'm Edward Cullen, it's nice to meet you," he adds, extending his right hand to me.

I take his hand in mine somewhat tentatively. I was afraid that if I touch him again, everything will go all fuzzy like it did before. I didn't like having a fuzzy brain; I found it to be most unsettling and I was very hesitant to expose myself to it again.

And then something happened when his hand touched mine that neither one of us seemed to find particularly enjoyable, at least not at that very moment. I felt a shock, very similar to what one experiences with static electricity, but more intense. It was as if the current flowed through my entire body. I couldn't say it wasn't altogether unpleasant, in fact it was the complete and utter opposite, which was why I disliked it so much. I didn't enjoy feeling such intense and rampant sensations that I had no control over. No man would have such power over me. I claimed dominion over myself—I was my own sovereign and I didn't care how beautifully green his eyes were, I would have the last say. I didn't know what I wanted the last say about specifically, I just knew I would have it.

It was at that moment that I shook my head back and forth vigorously, as if to will myself to come to my senses. The face was continuing to scowl and honestly I became more interested in finding a way to keep from looking at it than in doing anything else.

"Bella," I said firmly, crossing my arms.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, looking perplexed.

"Everyone calls me 'Bella,'" I elaborated.

"Oh. Aren't you a little old for a nickname?" he countered rudely. The nerve of this Edward Cullen person. What an entirely inappropriate thing to say!

"It's not a nickname, it's what everyone's been calling me since before I can remember," I clarified. Frankly, I didn't need to explain myself to this individual, but I felt it necessary to correct him. And with that, I turned and walked over to my sister.

"Emmett, nice to see you again," I said, not caring whether I was interrupting their conversation. I had to get away from Mr. LaserBeamStare.

"Hello, Bella, nice to see you too," he replied with that bright smile of his. If only his friend were as cordial and friendly.

I felt someone standing next to me even though I couldn't actually see them. This was an eerie feeling and I almost let out a shiver but forced my head to turn and look instead. And there he was, Mr. Scowlypants, looking as if he wanted push me into an oncoming bus or something. It made me want to slap him. Hard.

"Shall we go get a bite to eat?" Emmett suggested. Frankly my stomach was in my shoes at that particular moment, but I'd have done anything to get away from being glared at.

"There's a good barbeque place up the street," I offered.

Edward frowned. Very conspicuously.

"I'd rather we didn't. You don't look properly dressed for that," he replied.

I felt the blood rush to my head—both to make me blush furiously and to build up the insane amount of anger that I was about to shower down about this completely ill-mannered, obnoxious, creepy, glaring freak.

I wanted to scream or say something horrible back to him but my voice was nowhere to be found. So instead, I simply turned and walked away, resolving to go inside the movie theatre and wander aimlessly. I just didn't care at that point, as I was beginning to find myself close to tears. It no longer mattered to me if I appeared rude or inconsiderate in front of my sister and Emmett. I simply had to remove myself from everyone's presence.

Walking as fast as I could, I entered the theatre lobby and headed in the direction of the ladies room, where I fully intended to lock myself in a stall so I could cry in peace. But before I could get there, I heard footsteps behind me, and a second later, a hand grabbed me by the forearm. I didn't have to turn around to see who it was. I just stopped, my back to him.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" I demanded in a raised voice. "Pick on someone else, please!" I begged as my face began to tighten.

"Isabella…" he began.

"STOP calling me that!" I ordered, stamping my foot as I said it. "My mother calls me Isabella and I don't care for it," I whined, pouting like a petulant child. I was certain this only played into his horrible disposition toward me. I immediately felt foolish and immature.

"I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding," he tried to explain. I didn't want to hear another word of this horrible man's nonsense. I'd never been so insulted.

"I don't care. I'm asking you, as politely as I can, to please leave me alone. I'm here as a favor to my sister. I don't even want to be here. I don't care who you are, I don't care if your impression of me bodes badly for Rosalie. It's selfish of me to say so, but I just can't be bothered. Not when you've insulted me within seconds of meeting me," I said, my voice calm despite the fact that my entire body was shaking like a leaf from anger and hurt.

"As you wish," he offered, letting go of my arm.

I ran into the ladies room and locked myself in a stall. I tried to calm my breathing as hot salty tears ran down my face. I cursed myself for getting so upset. It was entirely idiotic. I normally never let people affect my emotions in this way. The boys at school would sometimes tease me for being so bookish and introverted, much worse than this insane Edward person, and it never bothered me. I could just ignore them, simply tune them out. Why and how I had let this rude jackass get under my skin was beyond me.

Just then my cell phone began to ring. It was Rosalie, wondering where I'd disappeared to. I told her I had to use the restroom. She asked if I was alright, saying I sounded upset and that Edward was mumbling something about women and their unpredictable emotions.

That did it. Now this issue became a matter of principal. I immediately set out to teach this freakishly rude imbecile with the intense smoldering stare a harsh lesson in just how _unemotional_ a woman could be. I pulled myself together, washing my face at the sink basin and straightening out my hair. I piled it up in a bun the way I normally do. I dabbed on a bit of lip gloss and blew my nose. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I once again recognized the person in the reflection.

_I, Isabella Swan, do not back down from a fight, nor will I allow a man, any man, to control my emotions._

I spun on my heel and exited the restroom, heading back toward the lobby in search of my sister. I spotted her, once again giving her rapt attention to Emmett as they made gooey eyes at each other and chattered away. Edward was standing a comfortable distance away from them, his arms folded while his eyes scanned the room, as if he were looking for someone. When he caught sight of me, I could swear I saw a look of contrition on his face but it quickly turned back to that same glare. I ignored him and approached Rosalie.

"Here I am," I said, again breaking up whatever engrossing conversation she was having with Emmett.

After some quick deliberation, we decided to eat at the little Italian restaurant just up the street. We were shown to a small table at the back which automatically made me feel uncomfortable because the seating demanded that I get downright cozy next to Edward. He pulled my chair out for me, which I knew he did only because he happened to be in front of me and it was expected of him.

I contemplated feigning a loss of appetite but the truth was I was starving. I ordered a basic pasta dish and a Coke. Instead of trying to make small talk, I pulled out my paperback version of _Romeo & Juliet_ from my messenger bag and starting reading it. I couldn't care less if this behavior was considered rude. Mr. BroodingStare was annoying the hell out of me.

"Do you always read at the table?" he pestered.

"Only when the company is sadly lacking," I replied without taking my eyes off my book.

"What are you reading?" he asked.

I didn't answer. I just held up the front cover of my book for him to see.

"Oh, a romantic?" he teased. I didn't see the humor in it at all.

"No, not in the least. If you must know, I'm studying it for an exam," I explained tersely.

"You know, I can recite entire passages from the tragedies," he boasted.

"So could a parrot," I countered. I looked up then and saw his less than boastful expression. Clearly, my comment had deflated his giant ego a little bit.

Suddenly, he snatched the book out of my hands and dropped it down on the table. At first he looked horribly angry, as if he were going to yell at me. Before I could help it, I actually winced. I was disgusted with myself. He deserved a slap across the face, not my trepidation.

And then, as quickly as I could blink, his expression softened and he spoke in the lightest, calmest voice I'd ever heard. It was almost a whisper.

"_It is my lady, O, it is my love!  
O, that she knew she were!  
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?  
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.  
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:  
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,  
Having some business, do entreat her eyes  
To twinkle in their spheres till they return."_

The intensity of his eyes staring right into mine coupled with his emotive voice and words somehow turned my insides into jelly and once again I was entranced. My mind was blank. Utterly and completely blank.

Thank God the waitress arrived with our food so that my inability to speak wasn't readily apparent. I seized that opportunity to concentrate on my food, even though it appeared to be swimming on my plate. All I could was smile dumbly at my ravioli while cutting it into microscopic pieces. It looked like dog food by the time I was done and I could've eaten it with no teeth but it didn't matter. I couldn't taste any of it anyway.

I looked up and noticed Rosalie staring at me this time. I must've had a very queer expression on my face indeed because her expression was a mixture of confusion and mild alarm. I raised my eyebrow and tilted my head, mouthing the word 'what?' to her as nonchalantly as I could. She looked away and I simply shrugged my shoulders.

"So, what is there to do around Forks for fun?" Emmett asked, attempting to make conversation with me.

"It doesn't appear there's much to do at all," Edward complained before I have a chance to answer. Once again, his complete lack of manners overtook the rest of his personality as he insulted me for umpteenth time.

"Oh no, there isn't," I agreed sarcastically. "It's only a completely unspoiled, beautiful environment filled with hiking trails and lush greenery. How could that even compare to the noise, commotion, and cold impersonal atmosphere of city life?" I asked rhetorically as I rolled my eyes.

"I think she's got you there," Emmett informed Edward with a laugh.

"Well, now that there's going to be a hospital perhaps your little village will be joining the rest of civilization after all," Edward snapped, his face looking smug. He was clearly trying to get a rise out of me. I wasn't going to budge.

"Actually, there's a very good reason why we never needed our own hospital. We've virtually no violent crime or drug overdoses or any of the other injuries you see in the city. Your father may want to take up knitting or some other hobby to occupy himself. I'm afraid he's going to be terribly bored," I replied, returning his very same self-satisfied smirk.

"Is that so?" he asked with heavy sarcasm.

"Yes, it is. I should know. My father is the chief of police. He knows everyone. We're like one big family," I boasted.

"One big family, huh? That explains a lot," he said with a hearty chuckle. I failed to find his disgusting attempt at humor at all amusing.

"Are you calling us hillbillies? What about you and your fancy pants big city living? If I were you, I'd watch it. We don't have drugs here so keep that stuff on 'the down low,'" I said, using air quotes. "We don't have cranker-fiends or tweakies or stone-heads or meth-monkeys around here," I spouted. I didn't know how to use slang or any other kind of colloquialism, so I was approximating.

That was when all three of them began laughing. Uproariously.

"Bella," Rosalie said as she laughed her head off. "What _exactly_ is a cranker-fiend?" she asked.

"How should I know?" I asked back, rolling my eyes.

"I'll _have_ you know," Edward began, "that Emmett and I are from the best prep school in Seattle. I've never touched a drug in my life. I have a 4.0 average," he bragged, looking completely snobby.

"So? I have a 4.0," I bragged back.

"I'm enrolling in as many AP classes as they have in that little red schoolhouse you call a high school," he scoffed.

"There are plenty, and I'm taking them all too. I'm getting out of Washington state if it's the last thing I do," I promised.

"Good, the further the better," he countered.

"Outer space wouldn't be far enough, Mr. Cullen," I shot back.

"If I had a rocket, I'd launch you there myself, Ms. Swan."

"Good grief, you're rude. Snob!"

"Nerd."

"Elitist jerk."

"School marm."

"Will you both just shut up?" snapped Rosalie. I'd never heard my sister tell me to shut up before. The shock of it silenced me. We must have been making a scene, but I was so irritated at Edward that I couldn't resist trading barbs with him, no matter how much attention it drew.

We finished our main course and I couldn't resist ordering a nice fat slice of chocolate cake. After the ordeal I had to put with, I needed all the cake I could get my hands on. I loved cake; it was my favorite thing to eat in the whole world. It reminded me of birthdays and other happy moments. Plus it just tasted delicious, especially chocolate cake with chocolate frosting. Sitting happily and devouring my dessert, I was in my happy place.

Until I noticed Mr. Glaresalot staring at me.

"What? Do people not eat cake in Seattle? Too 'hoi polloi' for you?" I snapped.

Luckily, he didn't answer. He just scoffed at me.

Finally, dinner was over and we made our way back to the theatre. We settled on some drama I'd never even heard of it. Frankly, it didn't matter to me what we saw. My night was already ruined. I wasn't planning on enjoying myself regardless.

We sat through the film in blissful silence. I had to endure sitting next to him but aside from that, I could actually hear my own thoughts again. Every now and again, I caught myself stealing glances at his profile. I wondered how someone so nice looking on the outside could be so thoroughly ugly and disgusting on the inside. It boggled one's mind, really. My very last stolen glance caught his eye. I was mortified.

"Why are you staring at me?" he whispered. Frankly, this struck me as terrifically hypocritical since he'd been scowling at me all evening. I couldn't hold my tongue at this point.

"I should ask you the same thing! You've been glaring at me all night," I whispered back angrily.

He scoffed at me again.

"You flatter yourself, Ms. Swan," he replied, insulting me to my very core. That was quite enough.

"I cannot believe your nerve, Mr. Cullen. I simply cannot. If it weren't for my sister and my consideration for her feelings, I'd tell you what I really thought of you," I warned.

"Please, Ms. Swan, don't hold back," he said sarcastically.

I just rolled my eyes and let out a deep breath. I wished I'd have paid more attention in gym class when we were learning yoga. Perhaps then I would've been able to disconnect myself from all the negativity radiating at me from this odious person.

A little while later, our hands accidentally touched as we both reached for the arm rest between us. At first we both jerked our arms back, then we managed to share the small sliver of cushion exactly down the middle without actually touching, but I could only keep my arm tensed for so long, and so could he apparently, because after a while I discovered that the backs of our hands slowly began to touch. It took everything I had in me not to turn and look at him when I realized what was happening.

Finally, and by the grace of God, the movie was over.

Emmett insisted that he and Edward walk us to my truck. I reluctantly agreed while Rosalie made no protest at all. I was not at all surprised by this since she seemed completely enamored of Emmett at this point. She was, by all accounts, a completely lost cause.

The two of them sauntered lazily down the street, hoping to stretch the last bit of the evening they had together. I, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get back to Forks and to be safely hidden away from the green eyes that felt like they stared right into my soul. With each glare and scowl, I felt more and more like he was trying to read my thoughts but that it was an urge he was trying desperately to resist. The conflict in him was so obvious; I could feel it within myself. In fact, that same conflict was mirrored by my own emotions. I just wanted to get home to the privacy and sanctuary of my bedroom where I could sort my brain out.

I all but ran to my truck. I didn't care; I'd wait for Rosalie and Emmett to catch up with me.

"Isabella, wait!" I heard from behind me.

I stopped, standing stock still. I clenched my hands into fists.

"My name is BELLA," I corrected, not turning around.

"Fine, Bella. Listen, please wait," he asked, his voice uncharacteristically pleasant. It immediately made me suspicious.

"What it is, Edward?" I asked impatiently.

"Please let me walk with you, it's dark out," he insisted.

"This isn't Seattle," I replied. I knew Port Angeles like the back of my hand. I'd been here countless times.

"Just the same, I wish you wouldn't walk alone down a dark street," he said, the concern in his voice evident. This perplexed me beyond measure. Why should he care? How could this jackass suddenly turn into a gentleman? It boggled my mind and befuddled me tremendously.

"Fine, you can walk with me," I said with resignation. We were almost at my truck anyway. If this would make him finally stop arguing, finally stop talking altogether, I was all for it.

Just then, a small group of men, very obviously drunk, were walking toward us. They were very leering at me and some even had the nerve to whistle. Before I could object, Edward put his arm around me and held me close to him. I wanted to complain vociferously—I knew how to handle myself in front of drunken idiots, I didn't need his protection. But his gesture seemed oddly…_sweet._ It galled me just to think about it, but at the same time it comforted me. Confusion roiled in me like a tempest.

We were well passed the group of drunkards when something dawned on me. Edward still had his arm wrapped tightly around me. And I had yet to break away from him. Thankfully, we approached my truck.

"This is my stop," I announced, motioning to my vintage red Chevy pick-up.

"Oh, very good then," he said, as if snapping out of some kind of trance. He tensed up almost immediately and took several steps away from me.

Rosalie and Emmett finally made their way toward us. Emmett gave my sister a chaste kiss on the cheek good night before opening her door for her and extending his hand to help her in.

Edward snapped out of whatever stupor he seemed to be in, and offered the same for me, but it seemed like he was reluctant to do so. His taciturn attitude was maddening.

I took his hand nonetheless and felt that same strange spark of electricity all the way to the very center of my being. He effortlessly lifted me up to the cab of my truck and closed the door as I sat down.

"Good night," I said, offering him a small smile.

"Good night, Isabella. I know you prefer Bella, but I don't," he said with a pompous grin. I just shook my head in resignation.

As I pulled out of the parking spot, I noticed him staring at the hand he offered to help me into the car. He then opened and closed it, as if it had fallen asleep and he was trying to shake off that pains and needles feeling.

_Edward Cullen, you are by far the most maddening person I have ever met._


	3. Chapter 3

**When we last left off, Bella and Darcyward met for the first time. Sparks flew, as did the insults.**

**Chapter Three**

**I do not own Twilight, I'm just trying to improve my crappy "dialouge."**

"Rosalie," I began, my attempt at reasoning with my uncharacteristically unreasonable sister falling flat on its face. "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl in possession of good looks must be in want of a date…except if that single girl is _me_," I clarified.

And with that, I laid back down on my bed and put a nice fluffy pillow over my face, hoping to accomplish two important goals: first, to extinguish the sounds of my sister's ravings; and second, to suffocate the life out of myself. The latter was far more critical to me at that particular point in time.

"Well, why shouldn't you want a date for the dance next Friday? It's only the single most important social event of the year," she argued. Why she insisted on grabbing a hold of this frivolous issue with the tenacity of a small dog on a vicar's leg wasn't exactly a mystery to me but I made an effort to act the part. Perhaps then she would let the matter drop.

But of course, as is wont to happen in all things unfortunate in my life, my mother put her moronic foot down. Again. This time the issue pertained to our attendance at important social events. She felt it was time for Alice to be able to go so that she could meet and mingle with peers her age and perhaps even earn the acquaintance of a boy whose lack of good sense would lead him to feel some sort of attachment to my silly and overindulged little sister.

"Well bully for Alice!" I exclaimed at the breakfast table that morning, noisily setting my spoon down with a loud clang. I felt congratulations were in order. She was finally getting what she wanted and some poor soul would inevitably find himself in a ridiculous predicament in which he'd be bestowed the dubious honor of becoming her boyfriend, and as a result, her life would feel complete. Someone chill the champagne and ready the string quartet to play a lively English Country Dance tune so that we all may skip happily to a cotillion.

Why was I feeling ever so festive? Because this whole idiotic scenario just got more and more idiotic.

There was a catch. There was _always_ a catch; and it usually involved me becoming ensnared in this tomfoolery, not out of choice, but out of obligation in one form or another. Someone would invariably make me feel guilty or as if I was the only person who refused to 'play along' with these shenanigans. So I unfailingly ended up looking like the party pooper to end all parties.

"Isabella, if Alice is going to the dance next week then you'll be going as well. I'm afraid that's final," my mother ordered. "I won't have her going out to social events without both of her older sisters being there as well. I simply won't allow it," she insisted, her lips pursed in strong disapproval.

"Fine," I huffed, shaking my head.

"Bella," my father intervened. "What is it you find so horrible about going to the dance? I remember you going last year and enjoying yourself," he reminded me.

"That's because I went with my friends last year. Someone's probably going to ask me to be their date this year. I know Mother will see to that," I said dejectedly, staring down at my bowl of cereal.

"Must my attempts at seeing you happy always be met with your negative attitude? Really, Isabella, you try my nerves," my mother scolded.

Another day at the breakfast table, another fresh hell.

"I said I'd go, Mother," I muttered, not looking up from my corn flakes.

Thankfully, Alice started carrying on about having nothing to wear to the dance and the subject changed to the issue of going shopping specifically for that purpose. It was decided that Mother and Alice would go to Port Angeles that very day to find her something suitable for the occasion.

After breakfast, I went out to the porch swing with my sketchbook. It was a favorite hobby of mine to sit in that swing and sketch the trees and the little hummingbirds that flitted to and fro amongst the little plastic sugar water feeders my father had hung from the trees for them. I liked my little sketching spot, as I often sat and thought about the more pressing things that weighed heavily on my mind as my pencil danced across the paper.

Edward Cullen.

He vexed me. Greatly.

I simply couldn't make sense of him. At first blush, to say that I thought him to be rude, pompous and simply a jackass was to understate my feelings enormously. I thought all these things of him and then some. But I also saw a side of him that was at terrible odds with these other, more odious, traits. He seemed kind, respectful and highly intelligent.

Of course I had no choice but to be completely honest with myself and factor in his physical appearance. I think he was by far the most handsome man I'd ever met. Every thing about him, from his brilliant green eyes, to his strong jaw and square chin gave me a sort of rush that made my heart race like that of the hummingbirds I watched. When Rosalie and I arrived home from Port Angeles the night before and I retired to bed, I tried for the better part of two hours to fall asleep but I just couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Edward's intense gaze—his smoldering stare looking straight into me. It made me feel so exposed that just thinking back on it made my breath hitch.

As I sketched a picture of the trees by the path that lead into the woods, my thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my cell phone. I had a text message.

**What, my dear Lady Isabella! are you yet living?**

This had to be from Edward. No doubt he got my number from Emmett. Why he would even want it was quite obvious. All he desired was to tease and torment me.

It seemed he fancied himself a comedian. He was paraphrasing a jab said by Benedick to Beatrice in _Much Ado About Nothing._ I quickly replied. If it was a Shakespearean smackdown he was after, then that was what he shall get, because I was no rube when it came to the Bard. I quoted _Hamlet,_ but with my own little twist.

**What a piece of work is Edward Cullen!**

A mere thirty seconds hardly passed before he sent a reply:

**The lady doth protest too much, methinks.**

Not to be outdone, his quick retort just had to take the low road and make this a gender issue. It always became one with most men, it seemed.

I was very much ready, willing and most able to show this fool just how loudly, how ferociously and how so very _unladylike_ I could protest, right into his pathetic ear. I pulled from my vast array of Shakespearean knowledge a little something known as _Julius Caesar_:

**This foul deed shall smell above the earth with carrion men, groaning for burial.**

He responded with more of the same sexist nonsense. I hardly considered him a worthy opponent by this point:

**Frailty, thy name is woman.**

It was high time for me to cut him down to size:

**Think you I am no stronger than my sex?**

His quick retort took me by surprise merely because I was expecting some of the same condescending drivel about the 'weaker sex.' But he said no such thing:

**One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.**

Good grief, Cullen. The familiar adage 'it takes one to know one' reverberated through my brain.

All of a sudden, my mind filled with images of our evening together the day before. My brain recalled his boastful smirk when he said something he found would irritate me. I ruminated upon that arrogant grin he gave me when he said good night and teased me by calling me Isabella just because he wanted to. Yes, Edward was the ultimate smiling villain and I was sure he knew it.

As Edward's countenance haunted my every thought, the best I could come up with was from _The Two Gentleman of Verona_, only I'd replaced 'him' with 'you.'

**I have no other but a woman's reason: I think you so, because I think you so.**

The irony of this particular quote was that it was spoken to Julia, a woman so conflicted about her feelings for Proteus that she rips up his love letter before she even reads it, only to then immediately gather all the pieces so that she could put the letter back together to see what it says.

There were Two Gentleman of Seattle and one of them was my own personal Proteus.

Just then my phone chimed once more:

**Isabella, you are a worthy adversary.**

I chuckled as I typed my reply:

**And you, Edward, are most unworthy.**

I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as I imagined him seething as he read my bold insult. Irritating him gave me great satisfaction after all he made me suffer through the evening before.

Later that afternoon, my mother continued to hatch her never-ending schemes by coaxing Rosalie into taking a basket of baked goods over to the McCarty residence. The weather was most inclement and we all knew rain was inevitable.

"Mother, it's about to start pouring rain," I informed her.

"So it is. Rosalie will be forced to stay with the McCartys until the storm dies down," she replied with a smirk.

"Please come with me, Bella," my sister urged. "I'll text Emmett and let him know we're coming. I just don't want to show up by myself. Please, Bella," she pleaded.

My mind drifted back to Rosalie and Emmett at dinner, how they chatted away and seemed so captivated by each other. My sister seemed quite fond of him and I felt it cruel of me to get in the way of her seeing him, especially since they enjoyed each others company so much.

"Alright, but rain or no rain, I'm not sitting there for hours on end while you make inane faces at Emmett," I warned. I was deadly serious about that particular point. I had no intention of being made nauseous at the sight of my sister going completely mushy and ga-ga.

"Thank you, Bella. You're too sweet," she gushed as she hugged me quickly and bounced out of the room, no doubt to change into something she felt was appropriate for the occasion.

Rosalie and I made quick work of the walk up to Emmett's house. I rang the doorbell and even before the long chime was done ringing, the door swung open.

There stood Edward, his wallet in his hand as he rifled through it, not even looking up.

"So how much do I owe you?" he asked.

"About a thousand apologies," I replied with heavy sarcasm.

He looked up then, his mouth open and his eyes like saucers. Rosalie cleared her throat and was attempting to suppress a chuckle. I simply stared back at his slack-jawed, astonished gaping and pursed my lips, waiting for him to speak.

"I, um, thought you were the pizza guy. I beg your pardon," he said finally, folding up his wallet and rubbing the back of his head like a child caught stealing a cookie.

"Beg all you like, I wouldn't pardon you even if I were the Governor," I responded with a gloating smile. Nothing was a more glorious sight to me than this obnoxious jackass getting caught with his proverbial pants down.

"Nice to see you, too, Isabella," he said with frown. He turned and greeted my sister more cordially, extending his hand and ushering her inside. I quickly followed behind lest he shut the door in my face.

Emmett came bouncing down the stairs at that point, no doubt thinking that his pizza had arrived. His face immediately turned downright jubilant when he realized something much, much better was there instead. He approached my sister with an almost shy reverence, taking her delicate hand and kissing the top of it sweetly. I was fighting the urge to vomit with every fiber of my being.

"Rosalie, so nice to see you again," he said with a broad smile, his impish dimples making him look delightfully angelic and roguish at the same time.

Edward glared at me—all rogue and no angel. I rolled my eyes at him and looked away.

"Hiya Bella," Emmett greeted me. I shook his hand and smiled back at him.

"Here are some pastries my mother made for you, along with her regards," Rosalie said, offering Emmett the basket. He accepted it with his thanks and set it down on an end table nearby.

"Are you hungry? We're expecting pizza any minute," he offered.

"Actually, we should get back," I answered immediately. I had absolutely no intention of mucking around with Edward there. I could not wait to leave; I wanted to leave the minute he opened the door.

"Pizza sounds wonderful," my sister said wistfully. She didn't hear a word I'd said. Emmett had once again rendered her moronic and there wasn't a thing to be done about it. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily.

"Rosalie, we should…" I tried to insist, but Mr. Grumpypants cut in before I could finish.

"Don't be ridiculous, it just started pouring rain out," he grumbled, his attempt to be thoughtful coming across more like a reprimand than anything else.

"It rains three hundred days out of the year," I informed him.

"Fine, I'll drive you," he relented. This wasn't a much better option as far as I was concerned.

"No need, Edward. It's quicker to walk, the route we use is just a dirt path," I argued. It wasn't really faster to walk but I was desperate now to find any reason not to get in his car. I did not need a single favor from this individual. I needed nothing from him save his absence from my presence.

Just then the doorbell rang, this time it really was the pizza delivery. I had no choice now but to stay. Rosalie had already taken it upon herself to start setting the table. She acted as if she'd been living in the McCarty home all her life. Besides that, if Edward insisted on driving us home, not only would he be doing me a favor, he'd be letting his meal get cold to do it. I was utterly convinced that the entire universe was conspiring against me.

Of course our seating was arranged so that I had no other choice but to sit next to Mr. Scowly. He pulled my chair out for me like he'd done the night before and I was tempted to push his arm away but instead I just muttered a quick 'thank you.'

Watching Rosalie and Emmett shyly stealing glances from each other while eating their pizza made me envious, despite how hard I tried to fight it. They seemed to thoroughly enjoy each others' company, while I was stuck with a temperamental, ill-mannered, snobby smartass who alternated between glaring at me and insulting me.

Eating pizza was an exercise in degradation, as I was not very graceful when eating with my hands. Bits of stringy cheese and tomato sauce landed everywhere, but thankfully most of it managed to fall onto the plate in front of me.

As I began eating my second slice, I noticed Edward smirking at me. I felt the heat rush to my face, as I was sure he found great delight in how I was eating.

"What?" I muttered, trying not to open my mouth as I chewed.

"Why do you eat your pizza like that?" he asked with a crooked sort of half a smile.

"Because I'm clumsy. Thank you for pointing that out, though," I said in exasperation.

"That's not what I meant. Why do you eat the crust first?" he pressed.

I thought for a moment. Frankly, I felt slightly taken aback by how closely he'd been watching me. And honestly, did he have to pick on every little thing?

"I just do," I said dismissively, shrugging my shoulders. The truth was that I did it because I wanted to save my favorite part for last—that doughy part between the cheese and crust.

"It's interesting," he said in a soft voice as he smiled at me. It was a genuine smile, not one of smugness or gloating. It made me immediately wary—surely he must be up to something. I'd sooner believe that pigs could fly before I'd believe that Edward was actually being _pleasant_.

After dinner, Emmett insisted on clearing the table since Rosalie had been kind enough to set it earlier. She excused herself to freshen up, which left Edward and I sitting alone in awkward silence.

"Well, I ought to go help Emmett," he said, not looking at me as he spoke. He scurried off into the kitchen, no doubt not being able to bear another second alone with me. I was oddly hurt by that, but why I just couldn't say.

I took a deep breath and tried to rub my face with my hands when I realized they were covered in pizza grease. The restroom was currently occupied by my sister so I decided to wash my hands in the kitchen sink. As I neared the doorway, I could hear Emmett and Edward talking. It sounded to be a heated exchange and I stopped in my tracks, willing myself to turn and walk back in the direction I came in, but I couldn't help overhearing Edward.

"Emmett, I'm not taking her to the dance. Can we just drop it?" he snapped.

For some reason I felt two inches tall at that very moment. I knew full well that Edward disliked me, but to hear him sound so disgusted at the prospect of asking me out felt humiliating beyond description. I ran back to the table and quickly cleaned my hands off with a napkin. I badly wanted to leave, to disappear back into my own bedroom where I could cry and vanish into my books or escape into my sketchbook, but I was simply stranded. I decided to try and hide myself somewhere within the house and hope no one found me.

I managed to make my way into the parlor, the room in which Mrs. McCarty brought us when we visited the day before. In the far corner sat an upright piano, its leather covered bench offering me solace from my current predicament. I sat and stared at the keys for several minutes, willing my nerves to calm themselves. As hard as I tried to keep them at bay, the tears couldn't be fought off, not even by someone as determined as me. My tears were born of hurt but just as much by frustration. Edward's hot and cold moods befuddled me beyond measure. I wished I could just ignore him, but alas, I couldn't.

I felt someone sidle up next to me and I knew instantly it was him. I could tell without having to look. I could simply feel his presence, and it was something I'd never experienced with another person before in my life.

"Edward, I wish you'd just ignore me from now on," I said, my voice a defeated whisper.

"I wish you'd tell me why you're crying," he replied.

"I think you know why," I rebuked, not believing a word of his feigned concern.

"Honestly, I don't. Frankly, I like you better when you're angry," he jokes lamely.

"You would tease me when I'm already upset," I chastised.

"I'm not trying to upset you more, I'm trying to make you smile. You should smile more often. It's nice to look at," he said softly.

"Stop teasing."

"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes," I insisted.

"No," he replied.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"No," I countered, contradicting myself.

"See, I'm not. You said so yourself," he laughed.

"Only because you tricked me. It's a hollow victory," I informed him, shaking my head. Clearly, he was determined to irritate me no matter what.

"Isabella, will you go to the dance with me?" he asked suddenly, the words tumbling out of him in a heap.

"No," I answered instantly, but I wished I'd have been more thoughtful in my reply.

"Why not?" he asked. He seemed disappointed, but I knew better.

"Because I don't want to go with you," I said tersely.

"Is someone else taking you?" he asked in a stern tone. He was started to sound annoyed.

"Maybe," I replied, attempting to sound cryptic. I wasn't obligated to divulge my entire life to this person.

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe someone will, I haven't decided yet. But it's not you."

"I want to meet whoever it is that's taking you—I bet he agrees with every last thing you say and follows you around like a lapdog," he accused. I hadn't the foggiest idea why, but he appeared to be envious of this imaginary person.

"No one's taking me! I want to go alone. Besides, if I had a boyfriend, what would you care?" I asked, thoroughly off-put by his ridiculous possessiveness, if that was even what it was.

"I'd care that you were sitting here with me while he's nowhere to be found. That's no way for a boyfriend to treat you," he explained with a smug smile.

"I said 'if I had a boyfriend,' I didn't say I did. And maybe I'd like that he agreed with me. Maybe constantly arguing and insulting me makes me upset. Maybe he would know that even though I have a mind of my own, it doesn't mean that I don't have feelings," I said. It was about time he be told this, even if it was in a circuitous fashion.

"Well, maybe he would feel like you're impossible to understand because one moment you're headstrong and on the warpath, and the next you're huddled in the corner, bursting into tears," he replied, the frustration clear in his voice.

"Perhaps he would be smart enough to realize that he shouldn't be a callous, snobby jerk if he doesn't want me to cry," I informed him.

"Perhaps you've gravely misunderstood this fellow," he said, becoming defensive.

"I doubt it highly. I'm not stupid." I felt equally defensive.

"I never said you were. Maybe you're just being too sensitive," he accused, as if his behavior was justified. His bold nerve never ceased to amaze me.

"Edward, you're only asking me to the dance because Emmett wants you to. It's the polite thing to do since he's taking my sister," I said. I was becoming eager to just get this all clarified, for everyone's sake.

"Do you really believe that?"

"Why else would you ask?"

"Maybe I want to," he said coyly, raising his eyebrow.

"Now that I do find difficult to believe," I snorted.

"Will you go with me, please?" he asked again.

I look at him then and all I could see is how earnest his face was and my immediate reaction is to be stunned at how good an actor he is. I doubt I'd ever met anyone as convincing as Edward. His eyes looked so sad, his furrowed brows so serious. I'd never seen anyone with such a pitiful expression on their face.

"Fine, but if you say anything rude or obnoxious, I swear I'll never speak to you again," I warned. I'd reached my limit in getting my feelings hurt and I was putting my foot down. I hoped.

"I'll try to behave, but you make it nearly impossible," he confessed with that devilish grin.

I rolled my eyes.

"Do you play?" he asks, looking down at the keys.

"Barely. My mother has an antique pianoforte that's been in her family forever. I took lessons when I was younger but I'm just not very musical. My little sister Alice is much better than I am. Can you?"

"Yes, actually, it's a hobby of mine. May I play something for you?" he asked, somewhat sheepishly.

"Um, sure," I replied, feeling embarrassed all of a sudden.

His fingers began dancing against the keys and it only took me a moment to recognize the tune. It was a beautiful arrangement of Van Morrison's _Brown Eyed Girl_. I knew it because my father played the original version for me many times. I was the only one of his three daughters who'd inherited his brown eyes, a detail he loved to remind me of whenever we listened to the song together.

I studied Edward's profile as he played just as I'd done in the movie theatre the night before. He looked so thoughtful, so deep in concentration as he played. He was, in that moment, beautiful to me. My heart nearly leapt from my chest from the maelstrom of new and conflicting emotions I felt. I didn't understand what Edward was doing to me. It couldn't make sense of it, and I desperately wanted to.

Yet, there was something so thrilling about the mystery of it all. What would happen next? I didn't especially like taking chances. I considered myself a risk-averse person in the extreme. Yet here I was, completely enchanted by someone I'd only just met the day before, who'd already made me cry twice. I badly wanted him to kiss me so that I could slap him for his impertinence but secretly enjoy it and wish he'd do it again.

He finished playing and looked over at me with a shy smile. Perhaps he was expecting me to react with disdain, but this time I really couldn't muster it, even if I wanted to.

"That was lovely, Edward. Thank you," I said softly.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you liked it," he replied, his voice hushed.

I smiled back at him—a genuine, heartfelt smile. I think it was the first one I'd given him since we'd met. His reaction surprised me. He was very obviously staring at my lips, his face leaning closer to mine.

We then commenced an odd half-spoken conversation and with every phrase uttered, our faces bent toward one another, pulled together by a force much bigger than either Edward or me individually. It was the combination that created 'us' and it was a perfect storm.

"Your mouth…when it smiles…it's nicer than," he began.

"…when you're talking," I finished.

_Closer._

"Your lips…pink and…" he said.

"…pouty…" I answered.

_Closer._

"…better for…" he suggested.

"…pressing…" I countered.

_Closer._

"…against mine?" he asked.

"Yes," I confirmed.

_Closer._

"Should we?" he proposed.

"We could," I accepted.

_Even closer._

"OK?" he asked again.

"OK," I reaffirmed.

I closed my eyes just as I felt his breath warming my skin. The anticipation tickled the back of my neck.

An unexpected sound caused me to jump and jerk away suddenly. It was someone clearing their throat.

I turned toward the direction that it came from. My sister Rosalie stood in the doorway, looking uncomfortable and mildly irritated.

"It stopped raining. We should go home," she declared. Her statement was not so much a suggestion as it was a command.

"Yes, of course," I said, standing up and walking toward my sister.

"May Emmett and I walk you home?" Edward asked, directing the question at Rosalie.

She paused for a moment but acquiesced. Gathering our coats and other belongings, we trudged out into the soggy Forks summer weather, the air muggy and hanging heavy over me, much like the expectation of a kiss never fulfilled.


	4. Chapter 4

**When we last left off, Bella and Darcyward were about to kiss on the piano bench at Emmett's house when Rosalie interrupted them.**

**Chapter Four**

**I do not own Twilight, I'm just trying to improve my crappy "dialouge."**

Edward and Emmett walked us home in silence, then bade us goodnight at our front door. I wasted no time making my way up the staircase and into my bedroom. I shut the door and locked it without saying so much as one word to my sister or anyone else for that matter. I didn't even want to speak with Rosalie about her unusually sour mood or why she'd barged in on Edward and I while we were at the piano. Frankly, I had other matters I needed to sort before I was even prepared to think of anything else.

I simply wanted to close off everyone and everything, to be completely alone in my thoughts and feelings. At the moment I felt entirely alone on the inside and desperately needed my surroundings to reflect the same. For as long as I could remember, I craved solitude, not because disliked the company of others, but simply because I often felt as if others never truly understood me. I couldn't relate to them, nor they to me. Secondly, I'd always been able to find peace and comfort in being alone, of indulging myself in my own thoughts. Following my own lead was always an innate need I had.

But now, I just wanted to be alone because it was the second best thing to what I really wanted—to be with Edward Cullen.

I had wanted Edward to kiss me. It wasn't merely a desire borne from curiosity or even lust. I was drawn to him, almost mindlessly, like a moth to a flame. When a person is extremely hungry, all they can think of is food, so much so that it drowns out anything else in the brain. This was akin to that same sort of effect—when I looked at his face, saw his lips, felt his breath, smelled his skin, all I could think of was getting him as close to me as possible, and kissing seemed like the best way to go about that.

I sat on my bed after getting changed for the night and tried to further examine my feelings. I couldn't rightly discern why it was that I felt such a strong pull toward this person I'd only just met or why he muddled my emotions so thoroughly that one moment I cried and the next moment I was happy. I considered myself a very even keel person and it was unsettling to feel my emotions shift so suddenly and unpredictably.

Honestly, I didn't even like Edward. He was arrogant, sullen, ill-mannered. He'd slighted me multiple times and I'd only just met him. But there was something about him. It was simultaneously alluring yet completely maddening. I wanted him to argue with me so that I could best him with my keen sense of logic, only to kiss the inside of his palm to assure him that he was still a worthy adversary. I wanted to tease him so he'd scowl but then laugh along with me. Everything was becoming its own contradiction.

I slipped under the covers of my bed and was about to turn out the light on the bedside table when my phone chirped, indicating that I had a text message. It was from Edward.

**Knock, knock.**

Smiling, I gave the obligatory response.

**Who's there?**

**Nietzsche.**

Only Edward Cullen would tell a knock-knock joke about a Nineteenth century German philosopher. I rolled my eyes and played along.

**Nietzsche who?**

His answer comes back within seconds.

**Meh, who cares?**

That did give me a good laugh and brightened my mood. There was nothing like a little nihilism to cheer a girl up. It was as if Edward could read my mind. Every cynic loves a partner in misery, no matter how much they deny it. I myself would've denied it vehemently just a few days ago.

I texted him back.

**Thank you. I needed a laugh.**

After a few minutes, the phone chirped again.

**Isabella, you should only ever be happy. "A light heart lives long."**

I smiled again and offered him a witty turn of phrase in reply.

**Edward, is your love's labors lost?**

I smiled when I read his prompt answer.

**Not if I can help it. ******

**Goodnight, Edward.**

**Goodnight, Isabella. Sleep well.**

I woke the next morning in a considerably better frame of mind. I dreamt of Edward all night—he'd say something sweet or give me that kiss we were supposed to have in the parlor at Emmett's house.

After breakfast, Rosalie sought me out in my bedroom to have a word with me. Despite my good mood, I was being rather aloof with her, barely saying a word to her at the table during out meal.

"Bella," she began. "Can you talk for a moment?" she asked.

"Of course. Come in," I replied, folding my knees to my chest so that she could sit at the foot of my bed.

"Yesterday, at Emmett's house, when I said it was time to go…I knew that you and Edward were about to kiss," she explained.

I looked down at the carpet, studying a bit of fluff that had landed there. As close as I was to my sister, I never discussed boys with her. I didn't discuss boys with anyone, actually, because I'd never had a reason to discuss them at all. There were a handful of them who seemed nice or better than average looking, but once I tried holding a conversation of any length with them, my interest would peter out.

There really was no way around it. I'd never met anyone like Edward before.

"Rosalie, I…" I tried to say but she interrupted me.

"I didn't think it was a good idea, Bella. I'm sorry to say that. You hardly know him. Besides, Emmett told me something, I don't know if it means anything but when I saw the two of you…" she explained, but now it was my turn to interrupt.

"What did Emmett tell you? Spit it out Rosalie," I urged, my tone getting firm now.

"Emmett has a cousin named Tanya who's visiting for the summer. She and Edward spend a lot of time together."

"What does that mean? She's his girlfriend?"

"I don't know. Emmett was just talking about what he'd been up to lately and it seemed like it was always the three of them doing things together."

I took a deep breath and sighed. The cynic in me was laughing hysterically at the hopeful romantic in me. I guess I should've known it was too good to be true. Of course other girls would show interest in Edward. Besides, he'd been callous and rude to me—he was being pleasant enough now, but who knew how long that would last.

"You're right, Rosalie. It's probably best that I keep him at arm's length. I wouldn't have kissed him had I known about this Tanya person. I suppose you did me a favor," I said, the disappointment in my voice very evident to my older sister.

"I'm sorry, Bella," she replied, putting her arms around me for a hug. I fought the urge to cry for some silly reason. I was more upset at myself than anything, to be honest. I'd gotten carried away and let my emotions overrule my sense of reason. I disappointed myself.

Somehow Rosalie managed to coax me into going to the mall with her and Alice. My knee-jerk reaction after my talk with her was to text Edward and tell him I wasn't going to the dance, but Rosalie convinced me not to. She reminded me that we were going in a group and that this wasn't necessarily a date. Edward did ask me to 'go with him' but if he could hang out with Emmett's cousin all the time, I could ride to the dance with him and back. Not to mention, I still had my doubts as to whether he really wanted to go with me or was simply pressured into it by Emmett. In the end, I reasoned that going with him meant nothing.

A few hours later I found myself stuck in Hot Topic while my sisters browsed and I contemplated suicide. Actually I would've considered this a mercy killing—dying to escape the chattering, squeaking ninnies who ambled around all this distasteful commercialism. It was euthanasia, really.

"Bella!" I heard Alice call.

I turned and looked at my sister holding up some hideous flower shaped barrette.

"What?" I replied.

"Lend me your debit card, please?" she asked, pouting at me pitifully.

"No."

"Come on, Bella, be nice," she whined.

"Why not just put an actual flower in your hair? They're cheaper and they smell nicer," I said, making a fruitless attempt to employ logic with her.

"But it wouldn't be as pretty," she sulked.

Just then a guy standing next to her handed a twenty dollar bill to the cashier. Alice turned and looked at him. I instantly objected.

"That's not necessary," I said.

"It's fine, I insist," he said with a charming smile and looking right at my sister. He had boyish good looks, with wavy blond hair and clear blue eyes.

"Thanks," Alice replied. She looked like she'd been hit over the head with a blunt object.

"Thank you—um…" I said, struggling because I didn't know his name.

"Jasper," he replied, putting his hand out for me to shake it.

We all introduced ourselves as we made our way out of the store. Jasper was quite friendly and soon we were chatting with him as we walked and found ourselves at the food court.

"Would you like to have lunch?" I asked.

"Sure, sounds good," he replied with that same charming smile.

Jasper and Alice were engrossed in conversation for most of the meal but eventually I got to ask a few questions myself.

"So, Jasper, do you live in Port Angeles?" I asked.

"Actually. I live in Forks. Well, I just moved there," he replied. "My dad is a doctor, he got a job at the new hospital," he explained.

This was interesting. I remembered Mrs. McCarty mentioning that there were three doctors coming to Forks—Dr. McCarty, Dr. Cullen and a third, who I believed was a psychiatrist if I remembered correctly.

"Oh, we've met Emmett and Edward," Rosalie chimed in, who'd obviously just realized the same thing I did. Jasper's face changed ever so slightly, but then he smiled again.

"Yeah, all three of our dads got jobs here. They've been friends since medical school," he said.

We chatted a bit longer and then resumed walking around the mall after finishing lunch. Jasper joined us for a while, talking to Alice mostly. At one point, Rosalie grabbed Alice and dragged her into a clothing store to show her something. Jasper and I waited outside, sitting on a wooden bench.

"So how long have you lived in Forks?" he asked.

"All my life," I replied. "I guess it's alright. I'd like to move out of Washington when I go to college," I added. On an impulse, I asked Jasper some questions that I was very curious to know the answers to.

"So, are you close friends with Edward?" I asked.

"Kind of, I guess. Mostly I see him a lot because our dads are friends. Otherwise, I don't really know if I'd hang out with him to be honest," he revealed.

"Really?" I replied. I was rather surprised by this. Edward and Emmett seemed as thick as thieves. It didn't look at all as if they _had_ to be friends—it was obvious they wanted to be.

"To be honest, and I'd like to keep this private, but Edward isn't always the most decent person. He can be a little manipulative and dishonest," he explained.

I couldn't exactly be shocked by what Jasper had said. Edward did seem like two different people to me at times, and hearing about Tanya only seemed to confirm what Jasper was telling me.

"Somehow I'm not really surprised by that," I mused.

"I hate saying it about him. I wish it wasn't true. He's done some things—I don't want to get into exactly what, but he let me take the blame for them. My parents were furious and I got into a lot of trouble over things I didn't do. So, you can say I'm a little bitter," he revealed, his mouth in a firm straight line as he stared directly in front of him.

"Sorry about that, Jasper," I offered.

Thankfully the awkward silent that fell upon us was interrupted when Alice and Rosalie came out of the store. My feet were killing me and I was desperate to get back home at that point, especially since I did have two more final exams before school would be over. Jasper walked us to my truck and even carried our bags for us.

"Well, it was nice meeting you ladies," Jasper said with a smile.

"Nice meeting you," Alice fawned, making me slightly nauseous.

I tried to put Edward out of my mind as much as possible. I distracted myself with studying, mostly. But before I knew it, my eyes would drift away from the pages of my textbook and I'd stare off and daydream about him. I'd think about the person Jasper described and the person I'd spent time with. I had to admit, I was excited at the idea of seeing him and going to the dance. I wanted to be back on the piano bench, waiting for him to kiss me.

The week finally came to an end and by Friday afternoon my sisters had worked themselves into near hysteria over getting ready for the dance that evening. I failed to see why it was necessary for people's emotions to reach a fever pitch—it was only a dance in a high school gymnasium. But one would think my sisters were making decisions of life-altering proportions when deliberating over whether to use the frosted cherry lip gloss or the frosted strawberry lip gloss.

"Are you sure the world won't stop turning if you don't pick the right lip gloss, Alice?" I asked facetiously.

"Bella, make fun all you want, this is important. _Some_ people like to look their best," she huffed.

I just rolled my eyes and walked away. I felt I looked perfectly fine. I wore my favorite pale blue dress with a flowing skirt that came up above my knee. I put a real flower in my hair just to irritate Alice.

Edward and Emmett arrived just on time. To my surprise, they had a girl with them.

"Hi," I said as they walked through the door. "I'm Bella," I said, offering my hand to shake hers.

"Hi," she replied, looking around with a bored expression on her face. She shook my hand like I was a leper, hardly touching it at all.

"Bella," Emmett chimed in. "This is my cousin Tanya. She's spending the summer with us. She's from Los Angeles," he added.

She did certainly look like someone from a big city. She had beautiful long blonde hair with deep blue eyes. Her tiny red dress didn't cover much but it looked expensive. Tossing her hair from her shoulder, she let out a long impatient sigh.

My mother corralled us all into the living room. Emmett and Edward both looked quite handsome wearing suits and ties. Edward's black jacket and skinny tie accentuated the deep green color of his eyes. I tried not to be too obvious that I noticed this, but he did catch my gaze. I turned my head my head quickly and stared at the clock on the wall instead.

"Hello, Isabella," he said, forcing me to look at him again. I was simultaneously glad and frustrated at having to do so. I turned and faced him; his mouth was turned up into that evil little smirk again. The one that made my blood boil even though I missed seeing it this past week.

"Hello, Edward," I replied in a soft voice.

"Well, it was nice of you boys to take the girls to the dance," Mother said, absolutely overflowing with joy at prospect of any of us dating a wealthy guy from a respectable family. Edward and Emmett smiled back at her uncomfortably.

"Of course, it's no surprise that Rosalie can attract attention, as pretty as she is," Mother gushed. Poor Rosalie looked mortified. "Now, Bella does usually go unnoticed but she has many other wonderful traits!" she exclaimed, making me feel like the ultimate consolation prize. Emmett shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and Tanya looked even more eager to leave. Edward's face turned dark in irritation, most likely at my mother's constant advertisement of how eligible her daughter's were.

"Mother!" I snapped through clenched teeth. My face must have been beet red. I felt humiliated.

Alice came down the stairs just then, thankfully, and I practically dragged her out the door. Rosalie and the guys followed quickly behind me, no doubt also desperate to get away from my mother's completely unfiltered yammering.

We all piled into Emmett's car—with him and Rosalie in the front. I wanted to sit next to Alice but she hopped in just behind Tanya and took the seat next her. Tanya didn't hide her frustration at not being able to sit with Edward. She all but glowered at my sister like she could strangle her.

So once again I was stuck next to Edward and his glare, which had returned to annoy and torment me. As if my mother's foolishness hadn't done enough, now I had to sit and endure his melancholic brooding. I turned away and stared out the window instead. I watched the large trees and green grass blur past us, wishing I could have just stayed home and disappeared into a book, where I had no mother who embarrassed me, where no one made me feel second best, where I could just forget who I was.

Sitting lost in my own misery, I felt something on my hand. I looked down on my lap and saw Edward's fingers lightly stroking my knuckles. I just watched them for a minute, how they gracefully strummed back and forth across my skin.

I knew all these things about Edward, what Jasper and Rosalie had told me, how Edward himself had acted toward me, but I didn't care. It didn't matter because I was feeling horribly alone and he was trying to remind me that I wasn't alone, that he was there trying to comfort me. Not to mention, there was still that unstoppable force that drew me to him no matter what.

I glanced over at his face. He looked at me quizzically, like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. Instead he gave me a small smile. His hand left mine and brushed against my cheek, wiping away the single tear I'd just shed. He shifted over towards me and put his arm around my shoulders very gently and tentatively, not sure if I would allow it, but I did. I rested my head in the space between his collarbone and his jaw. I felt him kiss the top of my head. His fingers gradually tangled into my hair, his palm over my temple and ear.

I felt perfect in that moment, absolutely pristine and perfect.

We arrived at the school where small crowds of people dressed in their nicest suits and dresses had already gathered. Edward and I pulled away from each other when the car stopped and doors began to open. It was as if we were both woken up from sleep and shook ourselves awake to come back to reality—to the reality where I didn't know what to believe about him or whether to trust him, where he probably didn't understand me at all and most likely didn't even care to try to.

I walked with Alice and attempted not to pay attention to where Edward was or whether he was looking at me. If he was, he no doubt had that same scowl on his face as he always did. We walked into the gymnasium where they'd decorated the ceiling with streamers and balloons. There were tables pushed off to the side, along with a buffet with finger foods, punch and soda. I lost Alice to her giggly friends and Rosalie was engrossed in conversation with Emmett. I sighed and walked about the room, hoping to become invisible. Finally, I took an empty seat at one of the tables.

I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turned and saw Edward with a plastic cup of punch in each hand. I get up from my seat and took the cup from him.

"For you," he said holding a cup out to me.

"Thank you," I replied, taking it from him.

We started wandering around the perimeter of the gym, slowly walking as we drank.

"You look pretty tonight," he told me, yet looking awkward into his cup of punch.

"I don't know why you say that to me," I answered plainly, not particularly caring if it offended him.

"You don't, really?" he replied, looking angry but at the same time defeated and exasperated. "Why can't I even compliment you, Isabella? Do you find me that unbearable?" he added.

I looked at him. Frankly, I just wanted to understand. Why did someone who seemed so arrogant and elitist even bother with me? Why? Like my mother said, I didn't attract attention. Why did he call me beautiful, comfort me when I was upset, and try to kiss me? Did he just want something from me? Surely other, more desirable girls would be more than willing to spend time with him.

Not really in the mood to talk, I simply finished my punch in several large gulps and walked over to the punch bowl to refill my cup, leaving him to stand several feet from me. He looked lost in thought when I turned and faced him again. I quickly finished my punch once again, feeling oddly lightheaded.

"Be careful, this punch has everclear in it," Edward warned.

"Ever-what?" I asked, feeling slightly foggy-headed.

"Alcohol, Isabella. It has some fairly strong alcohol in it," he explained with a smile. "I've tasted it before," he reveals.

"Oh," I said, looking down at my cup in curiosity.

Alice walked over to me, bubbling over in excitement. Once Rosalie was done introducing Emmett to every last person she knew, the two of them also joined us to drink some punch and pass the time. Soon the group grew bigger with various friends who came over to talk and Edward and I eventually drifted away from one another. Before I knew it, some slow music had started playing and people were forming couples to go and dance together. I was hoping Edward would ask me to dance but he didn't. I wasn't sure where he was, actually. Before I could locate him, someone else approached.

"Hi Bella," I heard a familiar voice say. I looked over to see Mike Newton standing in front of me. I spent most of the evening praying that I wouldn't run into him but of course I'd never have luck that good, so here he was, ready to inflict himself on me.

"Hello, Mike," I replied back in an empty, emotionless voice.

We had a little bit of small talk before Mike started going on an enormous tangent that was too boring and inconsequential for me to follow. Finally, he only stopped long enough to ask me to dance and I begrudgingly agreed. At least if I danced with him I didn't have to listen to him talk.

We got to the dance floor where Emmett and Rosalie were already swaying back and forth with their arms around each other in a loose hug. Mike tried to pull me close to him but I resisted. Not enough spiked punch on the world would erode my resolve. Unfortunately for me, he just kept talking, something about being on the baseball team.

If it were up to me, I'd avoid Mike Newton at every turn but I couldn't. His mother was close with mine and we've been neighbors with the Newtons for years. In fact, I know my mother would be over the moon if Mike and I dated—she hinted at it constantly, how athletic he was, how proud he made his parents. In other words, my mother liked to point out things that made no difference to me whatsoever when decided whether or not I found someone interesting.

The second the music ended, I pulled away from him and headed straight for the punch bowl. Much to my chagrin, Mike was following right behind me. Before I even left the dance floor, Edward suddenly appeared in front of me and blocked my path. He must have been waiting for me to finish dancing with Mike.

"Isabella?" he said, his face looking serious and slightly stern. I just looked at him. "May I have the next dance?" he asked politely. His tone sounded like I didn't have a choice but to say yes, so I simply nodded my head. He shot Mike a glare before walking away. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Attempting to discern why Mike was the object of Edward's scorn required more energy than I could muster.

I made my way to the snack table and the punch bowl and pour myself another cupful. I'd not been paying attention to whether Mike was still following me, and luckily, he wasn't. I noticed him chatting, his hands very animated, to a group of guys who were all just like him—athletes who liked sports cars and girls who'd go to make out point with them. Those guys all looked and acted the same to me.

Finishing the last of my cup of punch, I turned to throw it in the trash when I felt someone's gaze on me. I looked toward it and saw Edward, just a few feet from me, watching me. His expression had softened and he was no longer scowling. He was smirking, however, which by now I'd come to expect. I was feeling the full effect of the spiked punch, and it lightened my mood considerably. I admitted to myself that I wished I could just hate him, but I couldn't. The pull was too irresistible. So when he walked up to me, I couldn't help but smile.

"It's my turn for a dance," he said, holding his hand out for me to take it. I placed my palm against his and felt his fingers lace through mine. He wasn't holding my hand, I noted to myself, but rather joined it with mine. I liked that.

Dancing with Edward felt like the opposite of dancing with Mike. I wanted Edward to hug me close, to wrap his long arms around my waist and feel his hands on my back. I wanted to press my nose into his neck and breathe him in completely, to rest my forearms on his broad shoulders with my fingers tangled in his messy hair. I wanted all of those things and when Edward turned and looked at me once we'd reached the center of the dance floor, I could tell he wanted those things too.

"May I hold you?" he asked, uncertain of whether I'd permit him to do more than a formal stance.

"Could I say 'no'?" I asked back.

"You can say whatever you like," he replied, cocking his eyebrow and smiling.

"I'd like to say 'no' but I can't," I argued weakly, looking up into his eyes.

"Then what can you say?" he asked in a soft voice.

"I can only say 'please.' So please hold me, Edward," I replied, blushing as I held my arms out to him. He came to me and enveloped me in his embrace in one swift movement. He seemed more eager than I thought. I had the impression that I was at his mercy but I was beginning to realize that perhaps he felt just as helpless and desperate as me.

I rested my head on his chest and felt him kiss my hair like he'd done in the car. He had one hand on my shoulder blade and the other on the small of my back. I simply melted into him, letting his embrace take over me completely. I kept one hand on his chest, next to my face and the other on the back of his neck, my thumb stroking the edge of his hairline.

"You've bewitched me, Isabella," he confessed. His comment perplexed me. How could I have such command over him without even trying? Surely he knew that I could hardly control my own emotions around him, let alone control his.

I looked up at his face, resting my chin on his chest. Wearing my ballet flats with no heels made me quite a bit shorter than him, but I liked that. He looked back at me with a sweet but bemused expression, like he was waiting for me to challenge him, to say something sarcastic.

"I hardly think it's comparable to what you've done to me," I replied.

"Must you always disagree with me?" he asked playfully, shaking his head slightly.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, I'm merely pointing out something significant," I countered with a slight shrug, not backing down.

"Isabella?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

"No, you shut up."

"You started it," I accused, raising my eyebrow at him.

"Yes, I told you to shut up first," he countered, looking so smug I could hardly stand it.

"Alright, make me," I dared, squinting at him.

"If only I knew how—you wouldn't make me so insane," he lamented, jutting his lip out at me, as if his sweet, handsome pouting would make a difference.

"The feeling is mutual, Edward," I complained back at him, rolling my eyes.

"God, you're infuriating when you do that, when you make that impetuous face and roll your eyes at me," he said, glaring at me and grinding his jaw. I felt his arms tighten around me.

"As if I find your smug expression delightful," I shot back, not realizing that I'd fisted my hand into a ball as it rested on his chest, crumpling his shirt in my grasp.

"I am not smug, Isabella," he insisted, his words clipped. His hand went up into the hair on the back of my head, coiling several thick locks around his fingers.

"I am not impetuous, Edward," I argued back, pulling the material of his shirt down toward me.

"No, you're worse. You're captivating, and intelligent, and beautiful," he murmured, his lips so full and delicious looking that I couldn't take my eyes off of them.

"_You're_ worse," I insisted as his hand gently tugged my hair, forcing my face to line up perfectly with his. "You make me forget that I should hate you, hate you with a…"

"Passion?" he whispered, his warm breath on my lips. It gave me goose bumps.

My hand moved itself from gripping his shirt to cupping itself against his cheek. I felt his grasp on my hair loosen as he placed his palm on the side of my face.

"Yes," I breathed softly. I wasn't only saying 'yes' to what he'd just said, I was saying 'yes' to everything. 'Yes,' please kiss me. 'Yes,' make me incapable of hating you. 'Yes,' help me finally find someone who understands me, who likes me the way I am. I was saying 'yes' to all those things and a million other hopes and wishes I had.

I closed my eyes and felt his lips on mine. I instantly felt a chill, very much like the feeling you get when you say 'someone's walked over my grave,' after you shiver involuntarily. His mouth was soft, but his whiskers bristled. The contrast felt good. It all felt good. His thumb played up and down against my cheek, and my hand went into his messy hair, holding on to him as if he'd disappear at any moment. I felt his other hand rub the small of my back, playing with the way it lightly sloped at my tailbone.

Our kissing became more intense, and I sighed lightly into his mouth, leaving my lips parted—an unabashed invitation on my part to feel more than just his lips. He didn't disappoint me. His tongue gently eased into my mouth almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for me to show him that was what I wanted. I definitely did want it, and it was even more amazing than I'd thought it would be. His touch was gentle but not lacking in enthusiasm at all. I could tell he wanted me. I could tell by the way he kept pulling me closer, kissing me slightly harder, making me breathe faster. I felt a rush of excitement that caused my heart to beat wildly in my chest.

Neither of us wanted to, but we were forced to break our kiss due to an extreme lack of oxygen on both our parts. Gasping and with our eyes glazed over, we both stood and stared before laughing. It was funny to see how we'd gotten so carried away. I looked down at my feet, feeling self conscious after getting so lost in the moment. We'd managed to dance through two songs now and I hardly noticed the time pass.

Edward suddenly pulled away from me and I saw someone approach us from the corner of my eye. It was Tanya.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said with an artificial smile. "But Edward promised me a dance earlier, and I'm holding him to it," she added, holding her hand out to him. His face was expressionless. If he was disappointed, he didn't show it.

"Come, I'm sure Bella appreciates you making her feel less lonely, isn't that right, Bella?" she pressed, turning to face me.

I gave a weak smile and nodded as I felt a wave of nausea hit me. Her words of ridicule stung harshly and I was certain she'd meant them that way. I turned my back to them and walked quickly. I wanted to run but was afraid I'd knock into someone, or worse, get my foot caught on something and fall.

Increasing my pace, I found my way outside and into the parking lot. I walked as fast as I could, doing nothing but watching the asphalt under my feet. I heard Edward call my name behind me but I just kept going. Soon his footfalls became louder and louder, until his hand seized my shoulder, forcing me to stop.

"Isabella," he said, spinning me around and holding both my arms. "Don't run away from me," he demanded, looking agitated.

"I'm not running away from you! I'm taking a walk and I want to be alone," I answered loudly, trying to squirm out of his grasp. "Why don't you leave me alone, Edward, why?" I shouted.

"Because I can't!" he yelled back at me. "Do you know how hard I tried? I tried not thinking about you and I couldn't. So, I texted you all week and you never replied to a single one. It just made me think about you even more," he added. His green eyes were so intense as they looked right into mine. "You drove me out of my mind," he said loudly through pursed lips. "Three times, Isabella," he added, letting go of one of my arms to hold up three fingers, "three times I drove past your house, wanting to see you," he confessed, his voice getting softer. "I wanted to see you so much," he said, sounding defeated.

"Why should I believe you? Maybe I am just a lonely girl to you. But I'm not lonely. I just like being alone—there's a difference. I _want_ to be alone," I said, my tears betraying my words.

"I don't want to be around you because I think you're lonely," he argued, looking insulted at my accusation. I just looked away from him and shook my head, indicating that he hadn't convinced me of anything.

"If you don't believe me, Isabella, believe this," he murmured, taking my hand and placing it on his chest. I felt his heart beating rapidly, as if he'd been running, when in reality he hadn't been; he wasn't even winded from walking to catch up with me. "Why do you think my heart is beating so fast? Because I pity you? Because I'm toying with you?" he asked, my hand pressed between his chest and his palm.

I looked up at him, at his pained expression, and it was almost more than I could stand.

"I just want to be alone," I pleaded, very unconvincingly. "Just leave me alone," I said softly, resting my head on his shoulder. His hand went to my cheek, stroking it softly.

"I know. I want to leave you alone, and never think about you again," he whispered into my hair.

"I don't want you around me," I replied, wrapping my arm around his waist tightly. "I wish you'd just go away," I added, lifting my face to his and staring at his lips. They looked so warm and inviting.

"I wish you'd let me, I don't want to be around you at all," he told me, staring back at my lips in return.

I tried to push him off me but all I did instead was use the lapels of his jacket to pull him toward me. His hand gently nudged the back of my head so that I had no choice but to lean my face into his.

"I hate you," I whispered.

"I hate you, too," he whispered back.

This time I initiated a kiss, closing my eyes and moving my lips against his hurriedly, not being able to wait a second longer. He responded with just as much impatience, taking a deep breath as his arm pulled me into him so tightly, it was almost painful. Our lips ground together and we moaned loudly, not being able to contain ourselves any longer.

"Edward," I gasped, pulling away from him. "Please, take me out of here. I don't care where we go, I just want to get out of here," I insisted.

"I'll ask Emmett to drive us to my house. I can take you home from there," he offered, playing with a lock of my hair.

"OK. My parents don't expect me back any time soon. We don't even have a curfew tonight," I said, smiling at him. He smiled right back, a big smile that showed the little creases on the sides of his mouth.

"Wait right here," he replied, turning quickly on his heel.

A few minutes later, Emmett was taking us to Edward's house. Pulling into the huge driveway, I was slightly stunned at the size of his home. It was a large, modern structure with lots of big windows overlooking the acres of greenery around it.

As we got out of the car, I thanked Emmett and asked him to tell Rosalie that I wouldn't be back home until late, and that if my parents asked to tell them I was at my friend Angela's house. I quickly texted her to ask her to cover for me if need be. I dreaded doing this, not because I was lying but because I'd never done anything like this before and I knew Rosalie and Angela were going to want to know every detail of why I needed to lie. I did feel slightly guilty for deceiving my parents, mostly because I didn't like being dishonest to my father but I rationalized that it was only this once.

"Where are your parents?" I asked, noticing that the house had very few lights on.

"We still have our house in Seattle. They're spending the weekend there," he explained. "My mom wanted me to come with them, but I…really wanted to see you, and she was fine with me staying here. They trust me," he added with that smug smile.

Edward helps me through the front door by gently placing his hand on the small of my back, urging me to go ahead of him. His small gestures of kindness and manners are in stark contrast to the way he's behaved around me before, and I don't want to be suspicious that he has other motives but I can't help it.

We walked through the large foyer and living room and I took in how tastefully decorated his home was. We made our way into a huge kitchen with a center island and various pots and pans hanging from hooks on the ceiling. The looked spotless, its granite countertops and stainless steel appliances gleaming under the soft track lighting.

"Can I offer you something to eat or drink?" he asked politely.

"Actually, that punch hasn't been too kind to me. Would it be alright if I made myself a piece of toast and a cup of coffee?" I asked shyly.

"No, it would not be alright," he replied with a smile. "Because I'd like to make them for you," he added, showing me to a seat at the breakfast bar. I smiled and sat down, watching him move about the room, preparing my snack.

Edward took the seat next to me after bringing over two cups of coffee and a plate of toast. We chatted for a long while as we sat and sipped our drinks. We talked about our favorite subjects at school and our various hobbies. He told me about his love for music and piano in particular, but he also loved science—astronomy especially.

"I love looking up at the stars," he said. "I've had a telescope ever since I was really little. Space just really fascinates me, how huge and limitless it is. Makes me want to go out and explore it," he revealed.

"Do you like going to new places and seeing new things?" I asked.

"Oh, definitely. I don't want to stay in one place forever. Seattle was OK, but I want to see other cities. I've traveled a little with my parents, but I want to go on my own and take my time. One day I will," he said with a determined smile.

"I'd love to do that," I agreed with a sigh. "Forks is so small and I've been to Seattle so many times. I want to travel to all over and see all kinds of things," I said wistfully.

"Hey, I've got an idea. Come upstairs with me," he said, standing up. I got up from my seat and he took my hand, squeezing it gently.

He led me to his bedroom, to an entire wall full of books from floor to ceiling.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked with a grin.

"To go?" I replied, confused by his question.

"Yes, pick a place to visit and I'll try my best to take you there," he said. I still didn't fully understand but answered him anyway.

"England," I answered impulsively. It was the first place I could think of.

"Very good, I can definitely take you there," he said with a smile and a nod. He pulled a large hardcover book from the shelf—it looked like a glossy coffee table book about travel. The word 'England' appeared across the front cover.

He took my hand again and led me to the bed. He sat and placed the book next to him, then pulled me onto his lap. He put the book over us and flipped it open to the first page.

"Let's go to England," he said sweetly. We sat contentedly, perusing all the pictures and reading the little factoids and anecdotes out loud to each other. Edward tried reading in a funny English accent in an attempt to make me laugh. I rolled my eyes at him and giggled despite myself.

"There you go again, looking impetuous and rolling your eyes," he chided softly.

"It's not my fault your accent is terrible," I countered, my mouth betraying me by turning up into a smile. He closed the book and tossed it to floor with a thud.

"Well, we're done with the book. Thank you for going to England with me," he said.

"Thank you for taking me," I replied sheepishly. I felt his arms tighten around my waist.

"Where do you want to go next?" he asked in a soft voice, lightly rubbing my chin with his thumb.

"I don't want to go anywhere."

"You don't? Why not?"

"Because I'm already where I want to be."

"So am I."

"Kiss me again, Edward," I whispered.

His lips found mine and it was just as magical as the first time. This time I was actually more nervous because we were alone and in private. A voice in my head told me I was being extremely foolish and entirely too trustworthy but I was just completely entranced by Edward. I knew Rosalie wouldn't approve but I didn't care. She was only a year older than me, and at almost seventeen, I felt I knew just as much as she did about people. I honestly didn't trust or have faith in most of them but Edward made me forget all that. He made me forget how cynical I was, how disconnected I felt from the rest of the world. But Edward didn't draw me out of my little cocoon—he didn't force me out into the harsh light of day. Instead, he simply curled up next to me. He found my little hiding place, where it was safe and dark and just wanted to be in it with me, keeping me warm and secure.

"Edward," I sighed as his lips traveled along my jaw and down my neck.

"Isabella, so beautiful," he whispered back into my skin.

I caressed his hair softly, letting my fingers slowly graze across the side of his head. I heard him kick off his shoes before he pulled us down so that we were lying in the center of his big king-sized bed. I kicked off my ballet flats, my toes curling of their own volition as our kissing became more heated. I felt my skin flush when our hands began roaming around each others bodies. It was wonderful, intoxicating and delicious. But the intensity of it also scared me a little. I pulled away from him, interrupting our kiss.

"Can we…this might," I tried to say, my tongue being completely uncooperative because of how awkward I felt.

"We won't do anything you don't feel comfortable doing," he reassured me in a soft voice. "I'm happy just to be close to you."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling sheepishly. "I do like kissing you; it feels like we've always been kissing, but it also makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter all over," I confessed as I felt my face heat up.

"I could kiss you forever, but I doubt you'd let me because you enjoy being cruel to me. I'm lucky you let me kiss you at all," he teased.

"You're lucky if I ever let you kiss me again after that comment," I replied, poking him in the arm.

"See, you are cruel," he teased again.

"Cruel because I won't reward you for teasing me?"

"Kissing you isn't a reward. It's hard work," he argued playfully, twirling a lock of my hair.

"Is that right? Well, then let me not keep you from your arduous task," I quip, scratching his chin. Laughing, he leaned forward and put his mouth on mine, gently coaxing my lips open with his soft tongue. I obliged and let the warm wetness of it go past my teeth and tease my own tongue lightly.

We kissed for what seemed like minutes when it was really over an hour. By then, we were panting and breathless but neither of us cared. I stifled a yawn—it had been a very long day.

"Would you like to rest for a bit?" Edward asked, seeing me yawn and noticing my sleepy eyes. I nodded softly and felt him pull a blanket over us. I settled into the crook of his neck and as soon as his arms were wrapped around me, I dozed off with a glowing smile on my face, happily curled up in my little cocoon.


End file.
